


The Light Beyond the Sea

by KylieRiley



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Curse, F/M, Slow Build, Slow Burn, The Enchanted Forest
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-26
Updated: 2017-07-30
Packaged: 2018-10-11 04:39:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 46,537
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10455159
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KylieRiley/pseuds/KylieRiley
Summary: No curse Enchanted Forest AU. Eight-years after Snow and Charming found a way to stop the Dark Curse from happening, Regina takes back the Kingdom and Emma is forced to flee her home. She’s prophesied to save the kingdom on her 28th birthday, only she doesn’t believe it. Thankfully, she has a piercing-eyed, smoldering pirate to convince her otherwise. Captain Swan, of course.





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: Hello! Here's another multi-chapter fic that I will likely not be able to finish. Well, I did warn you, though I do have about half the story written out. I got the idea from watching Anastasia, though it turned out nothing like it.
> 
> IMPORTANT BACKSTORY: remember how Snow and Charming visit Rumpel in his cell the very first episode and he claims there's no way to stop the curse? WELL, in this fic, Snow and Charming make a deal with Rumpel to prevent the curse from happening. Also, Snow and David have another kid in this story because I'd imagine they would have if the curse never happened. Captain Swan, of course. Will be M eventually, hence the rating, though probably won't be necessary for awhile. We shall see when and how that happens. Also, you may catch references to movies and other books, something I like doing in everything I write (Cough. Tangled)
> 
> Disclaimer: I sadly do not own OUAT or any of its characters. This story is merely for my own personal entertainment.
> 
> I hope you enjoy.

 

Once upon a time, in a kingdom far, far way, there ruled a beloved King and Queen. Through wars, trials and tribulations, nothing could keep them apart from one another—including an evil witch who wished, or tried rather, to enact a dark curse.

It was a tale as old as time, a story in which love saw no boundaries. Together, with the help of their friends, the King and Queen fought off the witch and banished her from their kingdom. At the height of the battle, the Queen gave birth to a beautiful baby girl with golden hair. Her name was Emma.

To celebrate her birth and their victory against the witch, the castle launched a flying lantern into the sky. The people rejoiced! A princess was born, with a prince soon to follow.

But the King and Queen had a secret, one so powerful that they feared their eight years of happiness were finally coming to an end.

-x-

The sound of wooden swords and children's laughter echoed throughout the courtyard. It showed no signs of ceasing, even as their light faded with the setting sun. A girl, about the age of eight, held her sword up high, blocking each blow from the boy across from her. The boy was taller, perhaps a little older, but this seemed to matter little to the girl. The girl, Emma, had an excellent tutor. Emma may have looked the part, but she certainly wasn't your typical princess, not that Charming and Snow minded. In fact, it had been _their_ idea for her to take up 'dancing lessons,' as her father referred to them. Boy, had she been happy to discover that by 'dance instructor,' her father secretly meant 'sword instructor.'

Emma was more than happy to show her tricks to her friend, Pinocchio, the carpenter's son.

"en garde!" Emma shouted, as she shoved her wooden sword under her friend's armpit.

Well, perhaps not _all_ her tricks.

The boy, Pinocchio, let out a dramatic gasp before falling to his knees. Then letting out a fake cry, he stretched out his arms and collapsed to the ground with a thud. Emma smiled in triumph, batting the hair from her eyes, which had fallen loose from her ponytail.

"I let you win," Pinocchio said stubbornly.

She smiled, catching his lie. "Liar."

Pinocchio, still lying on his back, shrugged. "Perhaps." Then ever so quickly, he snapped his leg out and knocked her feet out from under her. She landed on top of him with an 'umph', her wooden sword falling from her grasp. Pinocchio used his strength to his advantage and rolled them over to pin her to the ground.

Not for long, though. Unlike Pinocchio, she the saw the world, not always as it was, but as it could be…with perhaps a little bit of magic. She could feel it humming beneath her skin, anchoring itself inside her heart. She released it, not enough to hurt him, but enough to jolt him and throw him off her.

_"_ _Ow!"_ Pinocchio scowled. "No magic! That's the rules!"

Emma stuck her tongue out at him. "We also said no lying."

Pinocchio's eyebrows scrunched together. "I didn't lie. I let you win!"

Lie.

Emma sat up. Pinocchio pulled out an apple from his pocket. Just when he was about to take a bite, Emma snatched it from his hand and bit into it herself.

"Hey!" her friend scowled. "That was mine! I found it."

Emma rolled her eyes. "It was actually _mine._ I saw you take it."

It was hers. She found it out in the courtyard and snatched it without a second thought. Emma loved apples, though her mother—for reasons unexplainable to her—strictly forbid having them inside the castle.

Pinocchio crossed his arms over his chest with a huff, though he didn't argue.

"Emma!"

Emma glanced up to find her mother waving her inside. Her baby brother, Leo, sat on her mother's hip, playing with the curls of Snow's hair. She shot Pinocchio a pointed look. "You didn't win," she told him stubbornly. She tossed the red apple into the grass behind her, so her mother wouldn't see her eating it.

Pinocchio smiled. "Tomorrow? Same time."

Emma nodded before racing off to her mother and brother. Leo's face immediately lit up with joy upon seeing her. He reached for her, catching her ponytail instead and gave it a sharp tug.

"Dilly!" he said.

"Ow!" Emma snapped. " _Mom!"_

Snow batted her son's hand away from her daughter's hair. "Oh hush. You did that too at his age."

Leo laughed at that. Emma frowned. Then she poked him in the stomach. "It's _Em-AH._ Why is that so hard for you to say?"

"Dilly," Leo confirmed and Emma huffed.

"That's your fault," she told her mother pointedly. "He got it from that song you sing us."

Snow smiled, clearly amused and unconcerned. "You know, one day you're going to be too old for that," her mother told her, not so casually changing the subject.

Emma fought the urge to gag, not at all blind to her mother's implications. Pinocchio was her _friend_.

"Ew, Mom."

Snow laughed. "Talk to me in ten years and let me know if you think boys are still gross."

Emma skipped ahead, her blond hair flowing behind her. "I'm never getting married," she told her mother proudly.

"Ah. Is that so?" Snow asked and Leo cheered for her. Something they seemed to agree on for once.

Her father came around the corner then, caught her around the waist, and threw her over his shoulder. "Ah! There's my favorite princess."

Emma let out an uncharacteristic screech as her father tickled her relentlessly. "Dad! Put me down," she said, nearly breathless. Still laughing, David set his daughter back on her feet. "I'm your _only_ princess," Emma challenged him, arms on her hips.

David winked at his wife, grinning widely.

"She gets it from you," Snow told him.

Emma leaned against her father, suddenly very tired. When David lifted her back up again, she didn't protest. "Can I stay up?" she asked him, yawning despite herself. Perhaps if Emma was a little older, she would have caught the estranged look her parents shared. Snow visibly tensed, a shadow crossing her pale features.

"You know the rules," David said, forcing on a smile.

"But I'm your favorite princess," Emma argued tiredly.

David chuckled at that. "That you are." Then after a second thought, he asked, "How about a bedtime story instead?"

"Deal," Emma said, leaning her head against his shoulder. "Can Leo sleep in my room tonight?"

Snow's eyebrows shot up, surprised at the request. It wasn't that her daughter and son didn't get along; it was just rare that Emma ever so openly displayed affection towards any of them, especially to her brother. She was a closed book, that one. Only David ever seemed to knock down those walls of hers. Even then, it was no easy task.

_Now that,_ Snow thought with a smirk, she had gotten from her mother.

David's eyebrows scrunched together in confusion. "Sweetheart, you're burning up."

"Is she?" Snow asked, rushing to her husband's side. She placed her hand on her daughter's head and frowned. Emma was quite warm. A thin line of sweat seemed to have magically formed on her forehead. "She was fine a minute ago." Then Snow's eyes grew wide with an unspoken fear. "David…"

David patted his daughter on her back. "I'm sure she's fine. A little cold is all," he told his wife with a pointed look.

Snow's lips formed into a fine line before she gave him the smallest of nods. "I'm sure," she said after a moment.

Her parents carried her and Leo the remainder of the way to their bedrooms, helping them change and get ready for bed. Emma was practically asleep by the time her father tucked her under the covers. Despite her best wishes, her parents did not let Leo sleep in her room that night, fearing that he would catch whatever she had suddenly developed.

"Story?" Emma muttered, even on the brink of sleep.

David kissed her forehead and handed his daughter her favorite teddy bear, simply named Bear. Emma wrapped her arms around it, pulling Bear in close. David had picked it out for her before she was even born. She never slept without it.

"Tomorrow, sweetheart," David promised, knowing that his baby girl wouldn't be able to stay awake much longer. "Feel better."

Emma wanted to argue, but she was much too tired to do so. Snow gently caressed her daughter's cheek, pressing her hair back and out of her face. Very softly, Snow began to sing, filling the room with a melodic tune of happiness and peace.

_Lavender blue, dilly, dilly_

_Lavender green_

_If I were king, dilly, dilly_

_I'd need a queen_

As Snow sang, Emma fell into a deep sleep.

-x-

That night, Emma dreamt of an Evil Queen who wished to destroy her family's happiness. In the dream, this Queen had stole her at birth and took her to a faraway, terrible land. Her brother had never been born and she grew up thinking her parents had abandoned her on the side of a road. In this dream world, she grew up not knowing about magic or fairies. She grew up not knowing the true meaning of love and happiness and all things good in the world.

Emma woke with a gasp.

Her hair was sticky from sweat that had matted to her face. She wanted to cry, unsure if these were side effects from the dream or if it was because she actually felt sick to her stomach. Perhaps it was a little bit of both. She winced, feeling a sharp pain inside her heart.

She felt like she was on fire.

It burned through her body, pulsating right at the scar on her left wrist. In many ways, it reminded her somewhat of a flower. You had to squint and tilt your head a certain way, but if you did, you could see the outline of a few petals.

And right now, her wrist was throbbing.

Emma choked back a sob, wanting nothing more than to curl up in her parent's arms. She reached for Bear, before throwing her legs over the bed and making her way towards her parents' chambers. Emma believed monsters only came out at night, when the world grew dark and cold, so she ran as fast as her legs would carry her. When she didn't find them there, she sniffled, wondering why they hadn't gone to bed yet.

It was incredibly late, or at least, it seemed that way to her. It felt like she had slept for hours. Emma knew they had company over, which is why she had requested to stay up in the first place. When they threw balls, they typically did let her stay up, but something about this visit stood out from the rest. Her parents whispered about it and talked in a weird and rushed sort of way that made Emma question whether this was a _good_ or a _bad_ visit.

She made her way to the dining area first. Along the way, she caught the white light of the study from down the hallway. She found it a curious meeting place, and she wondered if her parents' guests had requested to see the library.

She just about opened the door when she heard her name. Emma paused. They were talking about her, which was enough to make her forget the gurgling of her stomach and the heat in her heart. Emma peaked through the crack in the door. She could see their feet, four pairs to be exact. Her father's voice sounded like he lost it in his throat.

"She's the savior."

Blue. That was Blue's voice.

"There's no such thing."

"But the prophecy," Blue went on.

Her father slammed his hands on the table, making her jump. She rarely saw him angry, and his reaction frightened her. "Prophecy?! You think I care about some stupid prophecy?! We avoided it before, we can avoid it again."

"David," Snow said calmly, sternly. "Regina is back. We knew the cost when we stopped her from casting the dark curse eight years ago. We both knew this day would come. Rumpel-"

"Don't say his name."

"—said this would happen."

Her father shook his head. "She won't take her from us. I will die before I let that happen."

Emma's heart began to beat faster insider her chest. The ringing in her ears seemed to intensify to the point where she couldn't think straight. She _really_ didn't feel good. A tear escaped her eye, a rarity in itself for Emma _never_ cried. She wanted to go in there, yet she felt like she'd interrupt something terribly important. Emma pulled Bear in closer to her chest.

"I know," Snow told him softly. "I know."

"What if…" his voice faded, dropping to a low whisper.

Emma leaned forward, straining to hear. The floorboards creaked from under her weight, giving her away. Their conversation dropped quickly, dying its own death. Emma held her breath, fearing her parents' wrath now that they had caught her eavesdropping, something they always seemed to be lecturing her about lately.

Then after a moment, she heard her mother's voice. "Emma, sweetheart. You can come in."

Emma pushed open the door to see her parents by the fireplace with Blue and Jiminy at their side, along with Granny and Auntie Red. They all had their noses shoved in books. None of them looked her way though.

"I don't feel good," she mumbled, rubbing the sleep from her eyes.

Snow crossed the room in moments, pulling her daughter in tightly. Emma felt the ground disappear from under her, as her mother lifted her into her arms. She leaned her head heavily on her mother's shoulder. Emma felt content there. The burning sensation in her heart seemingly fading away in her mother's embrace.

"Oh, sweetie," Snow hummed. "David, I think she's sick. She's burning up."

"You know what this means, Snow," Blue told them hauntingly.

Emma wrapped her arms around her mother's neck just a little tighter, sensing Blue's threat had everything to do with her. In response, Snow just shot the fairy a piercing glare.

"What's what mean?" Emma mutter, incredibly tired.

"Let's get you back to bed, sweetheart."

"Will you stay with me? I had a bad dream."

Snow pressed a kiss into her daughter's forehead. "Always," she whispered, a tear escaping in spite of herself.

As her mother whisked her away, Emma heard a voice inside her head, one that did not sound human. It instilled a deep fear in the pit of her stomach.

_All magic comes with a price, Dearie._

-x-

Overcome with illness, Emma spent the remainder of the week confined to her bed, something she truly hated. Emma longed for adventure, longed to feel the sun on her skin once more and longed to sword fight with her friend. Only in her dreams could she escape her room, which had become somewhat of a prison in its own way. She dreamt of sword fights, a girl with the power of ice, and a pirate ship that sailed wherever, whenever its pirate captain wanted.

She liked that, not having anything to hold her back, including petty things like time.

To live forever, well, would be an awfully big adventure.

Her dreams made her happy. They made her forget the pain in her stomach and the fire in her heart. She slept the days away, something that concerned her parents greatly. She tried, of course, to please them. She hated seeing them _so_ worried. Once to prove that she was feeling better, she plastered on a smile and found the little strength she had left to convince them to take her outside. She hardly made it two feet before her legs collapsed from under her, sending her mother into a state of panic and herself into a world of darkness.

For the next few days, she went in and out of consciousness, catching the words and whispers of those who sat at her bedside here and there. _Something about a flower. Regina. Poison._ That last one startled her the most, though she dwelled little on it and fell back asleep, this time dreaming of a mermaid who'd risk anything to get back to her prince.

When she awoke sometime later, the moon sat high in the sky and her mother was caressing her cheek. She felt incredibly frail, lying there, unable to think or move. Something ate away at her soul, as if something had sucked the life out of her from the inside out. What should have terrified her, only made her sad and a little bit content. She knew the truth. She could _feel it_ and it did not scare her.

"Mommy? Am I dying?" she asked her mother that night, even though she already knew the answer. While she could not recall her mother's answer, she could recall her mother's sobs as she fell into a deep sleep, this time dreaming of a land were children never grew up.

On the seventh day, she woke up much earlier than she typically did. The sun had not even risen yet. Her mother and baby brother had curled themselves against her, still sound asleep in her bed. Emma rubbed the sleep out of her eyes and caught her father at the doorway, holding a cup in his hand.

The cup glowed gold.

"David?" her mother mumbled sleepily.

When her mother's eyes fell on the glowing cup, her mother shot up and out of bed. Leo let out a little whimper before rolling over and curling himself back against Emma's side. Normally, this would have annoyed her, with his close proximity and him drooling all over her nightgown, but it only made her sad. She wasn't afraid of dying anymore, but she was afraid of leaving Leo behind so soon. Would he even remember her?

"You found it?" Her mother whispered, hope winding its way into her voice. Her father nodded and her mother broke down crying.

Emma glanced between them, confused. Her father must have sensed her fear because he waltzed the rest of the way over to her and took a seat by her side. He touched her mother's cheek first, brushing away her tears with his thumb, before doing the same to a sleeping Leo. He turned to her last and brushed back her golden hair from her face.

"Want to hear a story?" her father asked her, his voice light and full of hope. Emma nodded eagerly. She liked stories. Her father smiled at her. "Once upon a time, a single drop of sunlight fell from the heavens. And from this small drop of sun grew a magic, golden flower. It had the ability to heal the sick and injured."

Emma eyed the potion skeptically. It gave off a beautiful, golden glow. "Will that heal me?" she asked him quietly.

She rarely ever saw her father cry, but he cried freely now and it scared her. He nodded, at lost for words. She took the cup from him and brought it to her lips. A warm sensation washed over her. Pleasant, she thought—the last thing she remembered before falling back into a blissful sleep.

-x-

When she awoke the next day, Emma felt brand new. She threw off the covers, stretching out her limbs, feeling incredibly weak from not having used them in several days. Her parents were pacing back in forth across her room, looking like they had not slept a minute. Leo sat on her floor, playing with the building blocks she had gotten him for his last birthday.

"Mom? Dad?"

"Oh thank Gods," Snow whispered, rushing to her daughter's bedside. Her mother's hands were all over her, feeling her forehead, pushing back her hair. She tossed her father a smile. "David, her fever broke!"

Leo laughed loudly at that.

"How do you feel, sweetheart?" her father asked her.

"Can I go outside, Daddy?" Emma asked him.

Her parents both laughed, though the tears streaming down their faces made her recoil just the tinniest of bits. She thought better of it, and instead, she reached out and brushed a few of them aside.

"Why are you sad?" she asked them the only way a child could.

Snow smiled through her tears. "I'm not sad, sweetheart. I'm happy. So incredibly, indescribably happy."

Her parents brought her to the courtyard only after her doctor gave her the go-ahead that she could go outside. She was pleasantly surprised to find her friend there, batting his wooden sword around and hitting imaginary targets.

"Emma!" Pinocchio screamed with glee when he saw her.

"No sword fighting today," her father told him quickly. "Not until Emma builds back her strength."

Pinocchio shrugged and sat cross-legged from them, not seeming to mind in the slightest.

Emma wanted to argue, but found herself still too tired to do so. She still felt incredibly weak, as if someone had kidnapped her soul and placed it somewhere she couldn't find it.

"I'm glad you're feeling better," her friend told her.

"Me too."

They sat like that for a while, enjoying the sun and fresh air. They watched her brother run around the courtyard, falling on his butt every now and then, before giggling loudly and picking himself back up.

"Leo," her mother called when he wobbled a little too far from them.

Leo walked back over to her and with a laugh, handed his mother the apple, now rotten, that Emma had not finished from what felt like a lifetime ago. Emma grew threw shades brighter and tossed her friend a look that screamed _why didn't you get rid of that! You know how my mother feels about apples!_

Pinocchio, who had suddenly found the grass much more interesting, refused to meet her stare.

"What's this?" her mother asked, slightly confused. When she realized exactly what it was, Snow shot her husband a look. "David…"

"Playtime is over," her father agreed quickly.

"But Dad! We just got here," Emma whined.

But her pleas seemed to matter little to them and before she could protest any further, her parents whisked her and her brother back inside to the safety of their castle.

-x-

That night, as her parents tucked her into bed, she sensed something different about them. Her mother kept glancing out the window, lost in thought, and her father had an expression on his face that she couldn't quite place.

"Emma…" her father began softly. "Your mother and I need to know if you ate that apple."

Emma thought about lying to them, but thought better of it. They didn't seem mad, only concerned. After a moment, she gave them a soft nod, before glancing down. "Are you mad?" she mumbled.

David titled her chin back up, forcing her to look him in the eye. "Of course not."

"Emma," her mother began sternly. "Your father and I need to tell you something and I need you not to be afraid. Okay?" Snow asked her as she took a seat on the opposite side of the bed as her husband.

Emma nodded, unable to stop the fear from bubbling up in the pit of her stomach.

"I once had a step-mother. Her name was Regina and she went bad, as bad as you could go. You see, my stepmother and I did not always see eye-to-eye. A long time ago, I betrayed her trust, something I still regret to this day."

Emma grabbed Bear, sensing this story did not have a happy ending. "Regina," Emma said, testing the name. "She's the evil witch from the stories…of how you guys took back the castle?"

Snow nodded. "Yes."

"Emma," her father began, picking up the pieces where her mother left off. "That night you were born, Regina planned to enact a Dark Curse, but we made a deal with a terrible man to stop it from happening."

"Why?" she asked, much too afraid to ask what deal they had made. She hadn't heard this part of the story before and frankly, she didn't think she liked it very much.

Snow squeezed her hand, reassuringly. "We had a plan. I would go through a magical wardrobe that would transport us to a different world, to keep you safe and hidden." Snow gave her a weak smile. "However, you seemed to have a different plan and came early. The wardrobe could only take one."

Emma thought about the dream she had, the one where her brother had never been born, the one where her parents had left her on the side of the road.

"The broken curse did not stop, Regina. She came for you the night you were born," her father continued. "She tried to stop me and she _did_ stop me."

Emma's lip trembled, but a part of her knew her parents weren't just telling her this for a pleasant bedtime story. "Did she take me?"

"She would have, Emma. Oh she would have and I can't even imagine if something were to happen to you, but something happened that night. Something we or even Blue cannot explain." Snow paused. "She tried to kill you, Emma." Then gesturing towards Emma's wrist, she said, "Did you ever wonder how you got that scar?"

Emma tucked her hand under the sheets, not wanting to look at it anymore. A part of her always liked it because scars shouted adventure. Now though, she found herself not liking it so much.

"Emma, it's not just a scar," her mother said. "That's what happens when powerful magic touches you. You see? No one knows what happened exactly. All we know is that Regina vanished and everyone in that room died that night, Emma, all except you."

Emma's eyes grew wide with horror. She glanced at her father. "…but…but you were there," she said horror-struck. "You didn't die."

"I did," was all her father said and Emma grew quite pale.

"Emma, your father and I share one heart," her mother cut in. "We weren't sure it'd work. In fact, it almost didn't. He was asleep for four years."

Emma's eyes grew wide in horror, trying to imagine sleeping for that long. She supposed that explained the five-year age difference between her and her brother.

"I don't understand—"

Her mother cupped her cheek and wiped away her daughter's tears. "It doesn't matter, Sweetheart. What matters is that you and your father are alive."

Questions exploded insider her head like fireworks and she didn't know which to ask first. "Why are you telling me this?" she didn't like this story and she was going to be mad if they didn't have a reason for telling it.

"Because there's a prophecy," Snow told her and David let out a very frustrated sigh.

"Snow…"

"David," Snow snapped. "Now is not the time."

David leaned back, clearly wanting to say something, but he held his tongue.

"That night we made a deal with Rumpelstiltskin, we let him go. That was the deal. In return, he told us everything he knew about stopping the curse and what the cost of that would be." Snow let out a deep breath. "Emma, he told us that one day Regina would return and take back what she believed to be hers. He told us that the kingdom would be trapped until a savior, on her twenty-eighth birthday would return." Snow looked down. With a deep breath, she looked back up. "Emma, he told us that the savior would be _you_."

Silence hovered in the air around them, thick with tension. After a moment, Emma broke out in tears.

"But… but I don't _want_ to be a savior," she shouted at them.

"It's alright, sweetheart. That man cannot be trusted," David jumped in, shooting his wife a piercing look.

Emma jumped into his arms, clinging to him as if someone would whisk her away that very moment. Her father held her as she cried and cried, only ceasing when she drifted into a terribly, unpleasant sleep.

-x-

Emma dreamt of a man—no, not even a man, something more like a beast—with scaly green skin and a high-pitched laugh. She dreamt of her parents making a deal with this beast. She could hear his voice too, it rooted somewhere deep inside her mind.

_"_ _The realm will be trapped where everything we hold dear, everything we love will be ripped from us as we suffer from all eternity while the Queen celebrates victoriously!"_

The beast, with his beady black eyes, let out a howl. Emma cringed at the sound. His teeth and black eyes reminded her of a crocodile.

_"_ _Get the child to safety. Get the child to safety." The monster's face contorted as he closed his eyes in a twisted manner, as if he was trying to find something deep within that head of his. "On her…twenty-eighth birthday the child will return. The child will find you and the final battle will begin!"_

The beast shouted that last part. Then gripping the bars that bounded him, he hoisted himself up and let out another sharp cackle, making Emma's insides and the scar on her wrist burn. Emma's gaze snapped down, startled to find that her scar, the scar she had once loved, was on fire. She clasped her other hand over it, desperate to put out the flame, but she couldn't. The flames only grew larger before consuming her arm entirely. Her body then ignited with hiss and –

Emma awoke with what would have been a scream if it weren't for a hand clamped firmly over her mouth. She struggled against her intruder and her sense of feeling returned in a rush of bitter agony.

"Emma!" her intruder hissed at her.

She paused, recognizing that voice. "Pinocchio?" Emma mumbled.

Her heart began to calm, but it did not last long. She caught the fear in her friend's eyes. She sat up, fully awake now, and that was when she smelt it. _Smoke_. It was suffocating her and coming from somewhere down the hall.

Her home.

It was burning.

"Emma," Pinocchio whispered urgently. "We have to go. Someone is storming the castle." Pinocchio grabbed her by the wrist and pulled her out of the bed.

She reeled back, snapping her arm away from him because she didn't understand. She couldn't process it. She didn't _want_ to process any of it. This wasn't happening. This wasn't happening. She had so many questions, but she couldn't seem to find her voice because _this wasn't happening._

"Quickly, Emma. They're coming for you."

There were shouts and screams from down the hall. Through the crack under her door, she could see the glow of the flames. Thick black smoked rolled its way under the door and into her room, turning her walls to charcoal. The sight snapped her senses into place and she raced for that door, but Pinocchio caught her around the waist and threw her back with a surprising amount of strength.

"Emma! We don't have time," he shouted urgently.

"But my parents! My brother!" she gasped.

"It's too late for them," he told her without thinking. "I'm sorry but we have to go." He must have seen something in her expression then, something that told him she would not go without them, because he added, "They'll be alright. They plan to meet us by the docks."

_Lie._

When he grabbed her by the wrist again, she didn't resist. They raced to the opposite side of her room, where a painting had been carelessly tossed aside. In its place stood a long and daunting staircase that seemed to lead down into an all-consuming darkness. She had lived in this bedroom for eight-years and had no idea there was a secret passage. In fact, she doubted her parents even knew it existed.

Pinocchio tugged on her arm, dragging her down several flights of stairs. Her legs kept giving out from under her and she kept missing steps,as her mind tried to process the events unfolding around her. Fear wedged its way up into her throat, making it difficult to breath. Her magic kept sparking in her hands, unsure of how to contain it.

"Emma! Stop it. Someone will hear."

But she didn't know how to stop or control it. So many emotions overcame her then that it felt like she would drown. She let her friend lead the way because right now, she needed someone to keep her steady. The staircase eventually leveled out to another long hallway, though this one was damp and cold. She could hear the sound of rushing water from all around them, though she wasn't sure if that was actually water or her magic roaring in her ears. The only light that filtered in was from the flame of Pinocchio's torch.

They ran for what seemed like an eternity before Pinocchio skidded to a halt. A wall that had caved in on itself, piled high with rocks and debris, laid in front of them, blocking their only way out.

"Now what!?" Emma asked, out of breath, heart hammering inside her chest.

Pinocchio fell to his knees and hurriedly began throwing rocks to the side. There was a loud bang from somewhere behind them and Emma knew that whoever had ransacked their castle would be upon them soon.

"Move!" she shouted.

Emma didn't even think. She threw up her hand and a burst of white light shot from it. It exploded the rocks, making a hole just large enough for the size of a child to slip through.

"You first," Pinocchio told her.

Emma crawled through the hole, tumbling out of it and down a slope of rocks before finally landing on the ground with a thud. The cold air hit her like a bucket of ice, though she had little time to dwell on this. Pinocchio skidded down the slope of rocks, landing practically on top of her. Then he pushed himself up and grabbed her wrist, pulling her right back to her feet before she could catch her breath.

"Don't let them get away!" a guard shouted through the hole they had just come through.

"Quickly, Emma!"

Emma's heart stilled. Guards. They were everywhere. She threw her head over her shoulder, startled to find her castle entirely consumed in bright orange flames. Towers began to crumble and for a moment, fear paralyzed her.

_Her parents were still in there._

"Emma!" Pinocchio screamed, snapping her out of her daze.

Without needing further explanation, she fled. She was soaked to the thigh with muck and slush in a matter of minutes, although it didn't seem to bother Pinocchio in the slightest. She winced as a branch snapped back against her face and opened a cut over her right eye.

A twig snapped from somewhere behind her.

She ran faster.

Her legs felt as if they would never take another step, but she kept running. Too stubborn to stop and too frightened to face whatever laid behind her. Her heart pounded, her lungs burned, her eyes watered. Then for an agonizing moment, her breath caught in her throat and she flew through the air. Her attacker was upon her before she even hit the ground.

"You think you can run from the Queen?" a man she didn't recognize sneered. He dressed in all black, blending into the night like a bat. He held a knife in his hand and he held it over her heart.

Emma closed her eyes, waiting for the pain that would never come.

"Get off her!"

Air rushed back into her lungs as Pinocchio threw the man off her. She recovered quickly enough to catch Pinocchio wrestling the man to the ground. The man fell backwards. But the man was five times Pinocchio's size and the knight threw Pinocchio off him like a rag doll.

"Emma! Run!" Pinocchio screamed.

Then the dark knight brought the blunt end of his sword down hard on Pinocchio's head. Pinocchio fell to his knees, collapsing face down into the ground, not moving.

Emma choked back a sob. She wanted to call out for him. She didn't want to leave her friend there to die. She didn't. Oh god, she really didn't, but fear had a funny way of bringing out everyone's true colors and that fear pulled at her heartstrings now. When the dark knight stood back up and gave her a wicked smile, she hardly hesitated.

She ran.

And she hated herself for it.

But she was scared. She was so terribly scared.

Emma sprinted into the unknown, branches slapped back against her face, mud destroyed her nightgown. Just when she thought she couldn't go any further, she tore through a snarl of vines and burst out into a clearing. She skidded to a halt, nearly toppling over a cliff in the process. She stood on top of the outlook with a sheer cliff, yards away from a dangerous drop-off, which overlooked a tumultuous river.

"There's nowhere to go," a voice spoke from behind her.

Her head snapped back. Over the treetops, she could see the orange glow of the fire destroying everything she had ever known.

"Come with me, _Princess._ There's someone who'd like to meet you."

Emma swallowed hard and glanced back over the cliff's edge. Emma peered over it, wondering if she could survive a fall from this height. She glanced back at the knight. The gleam of the knife against the moon was enough to make up her mind.

She jumped.

-x-

Killian lived his life by a series of rules, or vows if you will, each coming at their own place and rightful time.

The first vow came to him when he was no more than eight. His father's ship heaved and shouted protests around him as the storm they sailed into threatened to swallow them whole. The waves and sounds of the sea terrified him and he feared that with one misplaced wave, the ship would flounder into the ocean and sink to the floor. He flashed a glimpse at Liam, who slept peacefully in the bunk across from his. Killian felt a rush of envy, knowing his brother could sleep through the storm.

Unable to stop himself, he shouted for his father. His father came into the room and lit the candles again calmly. His father held himself up with confidence, no ounce of fear betrayed in his gaze.

"Now, remember. Whenever you feel scared, all you have to do is look inside," his father told him, taping his chest with a finger. "We are all braver than we think if we just look deep enough."

Something about that struck a chord. Killian knew that his father was a man he would always strive to be.

Funny, how appearances could be deceiving

But there was no way for him to know that by morning he would not see his father again for quite some time. There was no way of knowing that come morning, Captain Sliver would waltz into the cabin, claiming that his father had just sold him and Liam into servitude.

That day Killian vowed on the type of man he wanted to be, and that wasn't his father.

The second vow he lived by came to him about six years later. Killian had gotten himself into quite the pickle.

But damnit.

He was a fourteen-year-old starving kid and he was certain that Captain Silver was going to kill him before he even made it to adulthood and damn him, he refused to let that happen. So when nobody was looking, or rather when he thought nobody was looking, he snatched a loaf of bread right from the Captain's cabin. He would have gotten away with it too if Hawkins hadn't caught him in the act.

Hawkins, nearly three times his side, grabbed him by the scruff of the neck and dragged him to the Captain, the same Captain his father had sold him and his brother into servitude all those years ago. Captain Silver emerged with that stupid pet parrot, Captain Flint, perched on his shoulder and threatened to throw him off the ship or walk the bloody plank. Killian would have welcomed it too, if Liam hadn't come to defend his honor. They held him down and they made him watch as Liam took a beating in his place.

That day, he vowed to never let his brother pay for his mistakes again. That day he wished to become even half the man Liam was.

The third vow seemed to come in the blink of an eye and until that night, he hadn't realized the true meaning of the word pain. They had their whole lives ahead of them.

_Had._

Killian may have been there physically, but mentally he was incredibly far, far away. Killian knew about pain, had grown up with it his entirely life, and yet nothing could have prepared him for the pain of losing his brother. His shoulders sagged with a weight he hadn't known existed before. He was suffocating and for the first time in his life, he realized that you didn't need water to feel like you were drowning.

_Unbearable. Hollow. Empty. Numb. Devastated._

Words.

They didn't give it justice and for those who had never lost a loved one, couldn't possibly imagine it.

"This belongs to you now… _Captain._ "

Amazing how the simplest of words could undo you. Killian forced back the tears, refusing to let the others see him cry. Simmons held out a satchel that belonged to Liam.

_Had belonged,_ Killian corrected.

_Had._

Killian graced his hand over the crest. There was once a time that when he saw it, his heart would swell with pride. Now he only felt bitter, hollow, empty _._ He couldn't go back, not after everything he knew now.

"We are sworn to serve the king and the realm," he began, the words coming to him on their own, as if his heart was speaking for him. He took a torch from one of the men. "They sent us to retrieve an unthinkable poison, one that killed our dear captain." His voice waived with emotion, overcome with sadness and anger, until they met as one.

He caught sight of Pegasus's sail and raced over to it. He stood a foot above the others now. In the back, he thought he could make out Liam's ghost. It gave him the courage he needed to move forward.

"Never again should anyone set sail to that curse of land."

He set the feathers on fire and watched it burn. The weight holding him down seemed to lift just a smudge.

"And never again should we take such orders. Serving the king, fighting his wars! That is the way of dishonor and all of you who disagree can flee now or walk the bloody plank." He met the eyes of the crew, _his_ crew, and he knew he had their undivided attention. Some of the men would abandon ship the first chance they got, but he could see that the majority of them would stick by his side.

"Those who stay will be free men and I will be your Captain!" he cried out to them and he was pleased to hear shouts of agreement. Their excitement fueled his anger, and he took it and turned his grief into wrath. He could hear his voice growing stronger, more confident as it formed into a Captain his crew deserved. "We will sail under the crimson flag and we will give our enemies no quarter! We will take what we please and we will live by our own rules and that is the best form of all. Our kingdom is corrupt and immoral. They took my brother from me and I'm going to take everything they got. Starting with this ship!"

And as _his_ crew shouted their chants around him, that was the day he became _Captain Killian Jones_ of the Jolly Roger _._

Vow three: a man who took what he pleased and lived by his own rules.

A pirate's life suited him. He enjoyed it too, living life as he pleased, sailing wherever he wanted. He imagined if he had grown up without a brother, his life may have drifted more towards this path rather than Lieutenant of the Jewel of the Realm. Liam had kept his sanity in check, had kept him whole. Now that Liam was gone, Killian found it incredibly hard to stay on a path his brother would have wanted for him.

Killian barked out a laugh at the very thought. If only Liam could see him now.

Of course, with a pirate's life came not his proudest moments either. Robbing and thievery and sleeping around were several things, petty things, but a pirate's life also brought _death._ The first life he took had been an accident. A stupid bar fight that had gotten out of hand. Even drunk and broken, Killian hardly thought of it as a challenge. The feeling of someone's blood on his hands, for no good reason, struck a chord with him in ways he hadn't anticipated.

_Liam._

He had found out later. He had killed a man who shared the same name as his brother and it nearly undid him. He sobbed for that stranger, alone in his cabin where no one would see his tears. He pictured this man's wife and child waiting for him to come home and Killian heaved out the contents of his stomach, knowing that the man's family would never see him again. He scrubbed and scrubbed his hands until they went raw and cracked with blood. Yet no matter how much he scrubbed, he couldn't wash away the invisible blood. The stranger's death only served as another permanent reminder that he would never live up to even a fraction of the man Liam had been.

That night, he vowed to never take a life unless absolutely necessary.

Vow five came to him unexpectedly, as he hadn't been looking for anyone in particular. But Milah came to him like a dream and a Bloody Crocodile came along with her. Yet, even if he would have known, he wouldn't have changed it for the world. Milah had been a breath of fresh air in his bleak, dark life. She made him smile, she made him laugh, and for the first time since Liam's death, he found his heart swell with love and joy. But the Crocodile had other plans and that monster took her from him in the blink of an eye.

It only took seconds for Rumpelstiltskin to destroy his whole world.

On the day of Milah's death, he also became _Captain Hook_ and he vowed to only ever risk his life for love and revenge. That night he promised himself that he would kill the Crocodile, one way or another, even if it meant taking his own life to get it.

And last but not least: vow six.

Killian carried the ghosts of the people he loved with him everywhere he went. _His father. His brother. Milah. The stranger he had killed for no good reason._ They were always there, always watching and their deaths weighed heavily on his soul. They whispered into his ear, wearing him down, speaking nuisance things. No matter how hard he tried to shake their images, they were always there with their judging eyes and unwanted words of wisdom.

He shut their voices out, turning to rum to ease his pain.

After Milah, he vowed to never get attached to someone again because _it was better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all_ was the most rubbish thing he had ever heard. Love, it swept your feet out from under you and then it drowned you. There was no safe haven when it came to love, only regret and bitterness and inevitable heartbreak. And lucky for him, he had spent the last century cheating death and turning that heartbreak into wrath. One day he would get his revenge and it would all be worth it.

Killian took another swig of his drink before slamming it down on the table. A girl's whose name he could not remember laughed loudly next to him. She had her body pressed up against his, cleavage pressed out, clearly looking for a good time—not that he minded. He and his crew were still freshly back from Neverland. They had stopped in the first town they laid eyes on. They'd been there for two weeks now and his crew had certainly made up for lost time.

The obnoxious girl let out another ridiculous high-pitched, irritating laugh. She kept staring at him as if he would take her away from all the horrors of the world. He held his tongue, wanting to tell her that he was no prince charming.

He rolled the dice, which flashed a couple of threes, a one and a two, earning him the lowest score. His crew hooted and hollered around him, shoving coins his way. The girl leaned in closer, eyes darkening with desire. She was only another petty reminder of why he lived by vow six. He thought that perhaps she should too. _Don't get attached_ because in the morning he would be long gone, without a care in the world. He almost told her this in his drunken haze, but he managed to hold his tongue.

"What are you boys playing?"

Killian's head snapped up at the unfamiliar voice and froze. A striking blonde he had never seen before was leaning over the table, clearly displaying her cleavage for all of them to see. Just like that, he suddenly forgot how to speak.

_Don't get attached._

Well, damn.


	2. Chapter 2

**_Several Years Ago_ **

_It was a dark and incredibly cold night. Not that Ingrid minded. The cold never seemed to bother her anyway. Besides, the trees, dressed in a blanket of a snow, were a remarkable sight to behold. When she spotted the cave, she let the corner of her lips tug upwards._ _She found what she was looking for._

_Still, when she pulled the box made of stars and moonlight from its hiding place, she hesitated. But she had come too far to stop now._

_Letting out a deep breath, she said, "Rumpelstiltskin. Rumpelstiltskin. Rumpel-"_

_"_ _STOP!" a threatening voice boomed out in the dark of the cave. Ingrid found a man with a long white beard and dressed in strange clothing standing behind her. "I have traveled far to find you. Why are you conjuring the Dark One when you have a deal with the sorcerer?" He paused, allowing that to sink in for good measure. "Do you think he can find the sister you seek?"_

_"_ _No. But I lost the one I already had."_

_"_ _You told me you were a patient woman. Happy endings can take a long time and they do happen."_

_She inhaled. "Does that mean you found a match?"_

_The man sighed. "The sorcerer did locate a third magical sister and she will be a perfect match."_

_The woman cocked her head to the side, confused. "What do you mean will be?"_

_"_ _She is not born yet."_

_"_ _How does the sorcerer know something that hasn't happened yet?" Ingrid snapped._

_"_ _He knows many things," the man said calmly. "For example, he knows that if you deliver that hat to the Dark One, you'll never find your happy ending."_

_"_ _And if I give it to you…I will…?" she asked, unable to finish the sentence. She had searched for her happiness for far too long that the concept seemed too much like a distant dream. The thought of finally getting her happy ending was entirely overwhelming._

_"_ _There has been a change. It's not what I originally foresaw," he told her, lost in thought. Then after a moment, he stated, "You will find this third sister and I believe she will need you very much."_

_The woman's lip twitched._

_The man waved his hand and a door magically appeared in front of them. He turned back to her. "This door will lead you to a new land where your happy ending awaits."_

**_Two Years Since Regina's Return_ **

Emma, now ten, held an oversized mop in her hand as she swept the floor of a dark and musty tavern. Soon enough, the tavern would fill with drunken men and women alike, all looking for something to help them forget the troubles of the world. Ideally, Emma could have snapped her fingers and had the whole place cleaned within seconds. However, since her return, the Evil Queen banned anyone, aside from herself, from using magic, and anyone who possessed such ability was to be executed on sight.

Emma learned this the hard way.

Wanting to please the orphanage's headmaster, she lit the flame of a stove that wouldn't light with the wave of her hand. Instead, of pleasing her, the woman had called the authorities, choosing gold over the nine-year-old child without a home. How she ever escaped, Emma would never know. After that night, she vowed to never use magic again.

The Thénardiers' weren't the nicest people in the world, she had to admit, but they kept her fed and they put a roof over her head…as long as she cleaned the dishes, mopped the floor, and completed any other chores they could think of.

Emma wandered over to the window and watched as the other children played in the snow. She longed to play with them. Just once, she wished she could take a break from all this and pretend she was someone else. On days like this, she allowed herself to dream of a castle on a cloud and a lady with lips as red as rose. But then the image of the woman would become all too apparent. A man and another child she recognized would sweep into view and her heart would shatter at everything she had lost.

Emma brushed away the tears and forced those memories aside. Emma shook her head. No, those weren't memories, she decided. They were just dreams. This was her life now, she thought looking around the tavern.

She was an orphan.

"Well, well," an all too familiar voice spoke from behind her, jolting her from her thoughts. Emma quickly began sweeping the floor again. "Slacking on the job are we? Better not catch my eye on you little miss."

Okay, so perhaps the Thénardiers' were worse than 'not the nicest people in the world.' They were horrible, wretched people actually, but she had nowhere else to go. She thought about running away more times than she could count, but a) she'd freeze to death b) she had nowhere else to go and c) this was her life now.

Madame waltzed over to the bar and grabbed a large pale. She threw it into Emma's arms, who had to drop the mop in order to catch it.

"Go fetch some water from the well," Madame scoffed at her.

Not wanting to see the back of Madame's hand, Emma readjusted the pale in her arms before quickly scurrying over to the door.

"We should have never taken you in," Madame continued on, talking more or less to herself now. "How stupid of us, really." Without warning, Madame banged her hand against the wall, making Emma jump. "What are you still doing there?"

Emma bit her lip. It was incredibly dark and cold out. She imagined a knight dressed in all black chasing her through a forest.

"Please…please don't send me out there. Not by myself," she said quietly.

"Oh would you just SHUT IT!" Madame screamed. Then mockingly, she whispered, "Or I'll forget to be nice."

Madame didn't need to tell her twice and Emma raced away.

The snow was cold and slippery beneath her feet. Emma kept struggling to right herself and struggling to pull her shawl tighter around her. Emma tried not to think about the all-consuming darkness or the possibility of running into one of Regina's knights, despite the distance from the castle.

There were rumors that she could hear and see everything.

Emma swallowed the lump in her throat, quickening her pace now. When she reached the well, she nearly dropped the bucket altogether. A woman she did not recognize sat there. She looked ordinary enough with her blonde her and kind eyes, however, Emma knew better than anybody that appearances could be misleading.

"Emma is it?" the woman asked in the sweetest, softest of voices.

Emma froze, curious to how the woman knew her name. She held the pale a little tighter and took a step back. The woman waved her hand and a white teddy bear appeared in the woman's hand. Emma dropped the pale and gasped.

_Magic._

Emma looked around, wondering if this was a trick.

"My name is Ingrid, sweetie, and I'd very much like it if you choose to come live with me."

Emma opened her mouth, at lost for words. She didn't talk much nowadays. She saw no reason to. Emma glanced back the way she came. Ingrid must have read her thoughts.

"I wouldn't worry about them, Emma. They seem to worry very little about you."

Then suddenly the woman was in front of her, grasping her hand in hers. The prettiest, kindest smile Emma had ever seen graced her features and Emma found herself relaxing into the woman's touch. The orphanage had been a dark and terrible place, but it had provided her with a nifty trick.

"You're…you're telling the truth," Emma whispered, finally finding her voice.

Ingrid smiled. "Yes, sweetheart. Come home with me and you'll never go hungry or cold again. You'll have a home with me. How does that sound?"

Emma nodded slowly. Eventually she accepted the woman's offer, mostly because she didn't think it could get any worse than living with the Thénardiers. Ingrid handed her the white bear and Emma accepted it with some hesitation. The last time someone had given her something hadn't been since…well…

"Come along now, Emma."

Emma bit her lip, though she slipped her hand into Ingrid's all the same. For the first time in an incredibly long time, she felt safe.

-x-

As it turned out, Ingrid didn't even live in the same town as the Thénardiers. She lived in the next town over, not too far from the harbor. Emma had to admit she was skeptical of the blonde lady with magic at first, though she was rather more afraid of what the Thénardiers would do to her if they ever discovered her whereabouts.

Emma didn't talk much, choosing to accept and process everything in silence. Much to her relief, Ingrid had told her the truth. Things were much better at the cottage than back at the tavern, so much so, that Emma feared this was some cruel trick, that any day now Ingrid would shout ' _surprise! Just kidding! Did you really think I'd take you in?_ ' before throwing her out on the streets to starve.

But this never happened.

As the days turned into weeks and months turned into years, Emma grew more and more relaxed. She began to open up a little more each passing day and in turn, Ingrid shared her secrets as well. Ingrid showed her magic, a secret between just the two of them. Emma thought about telling Ingrid that she too had magic, but Emma suspected that Ingrid already knew.

But Ingrid's warmth and love brought something else that Emma hadn't expected.

Homesickness.

Emma couldn't deny the ache in her heart any longer and she dreaded going to sleep each night. Every time she closed her eyes, she dreamt of beasts, evil queens and her castle on a cloud, consumed in flames. Every night, she awoke screaming out for her mother, her father, and her baby brother who she would never see again.

Because she had left them there to burn.

She had denied her memories for so long now that she had convinced herself that they were nothing more than a distant dream, that she had always and would always be an orphan.

Swan

That was the name she had chosen when the lady at the Orphanage had asked her name. Her father had given her a swan necklace on her sixth birthday and she had never taken it off. And so she became Emma Swan that day, not Princess Emma, daughter of Snow White and Prince Charming. She believed that by becoming Swan, she would forget everything that had happened in her bleak, dark life.

But that wasn't how the world worked.

She carried their ghosts with her everywhere. When she was brushing her teeth, helping Ingrid cook dinner, doing chores around the house…they were always there, just out of reach, watching her. They haunted her every day and every night, and if for some reason they didn't, the beast chose to plague her dreams instead.

Like tonight.

She dreamt of the beast howling out his prophecy to her parents.

_"_ _On her…twenty-eighth …birthday the child will return. The child will find you and the final battle will begin!"_

Emma screamed, frantic to push the beast away, but she couldn't rid herself of the image, or the one of her parents perishing in a fire. She didn't want to be the savior. She didn't ask for any of this. Emma didn't realize that she hadn't stopped screaming until Ingrid was in her room, pulling her into a warm embrace.

"Oh sweetie," Ingrid whispered, cradling her head against her chest. "What's wrong?"

Emma clung to her foster mother and sobbed for everything she had lost. She told Ingrid everything, coming apart at the seams because she needed to tell someone all the horrors that had plagued her life.

Ingrid pulled away slightly and gave her a gentle kiss on her forehead. "Oh, Emma. I already knew. I knew everything."

And just like that, Emma broke. "I don't want to be the savior. I never asked for this."

Ingrid pulled Emma back into her arms. "I know, Sweetie. I know."

"I just want to forget."

Ingrid froze and Emma pulled back, skeptically meeting her foster mother's eyes. Emma didn't have to ask. Ingrid pulled out what looked like a purple pebble.

"What is that?" Emma whispered, wiping the tears from her cheeks.

"Emma," Ingrid said slowly. "Is that what you really want? To forget?" Ingrid gestured to the pebble in her hand. "I can take away the painful memories, Emma, but I will only do it if you ask me to."

Emma bit her lip. _Was that what she really wanted?_ To forget everything she had ever known. She would forget her mother, her father, her brother and her home. Her heart clenched inside her chest and Emma closed her eyes, as another tear escaped and dropped to the floor. To forget them would also mean forgetting the pain that came along with those memories. _Was it truly better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all?_

No, she thought. Loving people only brought pain and heartbreak.

Emma nodded without hesitation.

Ingrid waved her hand and the pebble began to glow purple. A trail of floating specks, like tiny stars, drifted towards her head. The glow consumed her, warmed her soul and she found her eyes drifting shut. Suddenly unable to resist her exhaustion any longer, Emma succumbed to it.

When she awoke the next morning, Princess Emma of the Enchanted Forest was no more, rather she was simply and had always been Emma Swan, an orphan.

-x-

Emma Swan grew into a beautiful young lady and much loved by the entire town. They whispered about her beauty, as well as her kindness. To her foster mother she was a princess. True, she had no title or crown, nor castle but she was the ruler of her own little Kingdom whose boarders were the house in a meadow on the forest's edge where she lived as long as she could remember.

"What about this one?" Ingrid asked her, holding up a beautiful blue shawl.

It was an unusually warm sunny day for the time of year and they were taking advantage of it. The market bustled with life and everyone there seemed particularly in good spirits that day. They were looking for nothing in particular, though Ingrid insisted on buying something for Emma's nineteenth birthday, which just so happened to be today

"It's nice," Emma told her. "But honestly, you don't have to get me anything."

Emma told her this every year, yet Ingrid never failed to surprise her.

"The blue brings out the green in your eyes," Ingrid told her simply and gave the merchant several coins as payment.

"Thank you," Emma told her.

"You're very welcome."

Ingrid wrapped the shawl around her. It occurred to Emma that she hadn't felt this happy in an incredibly long time. She wasn't particularly fond of birthdays, knowing that her real parents had abandoned her on the side of the road, left for dead as a baby. At least, that was what they told her at the orphanage, not that she could remember. In fact, she strangely remembered very little about that part of her life. Not that it mattered anyway, for she was truly thankful that Ingrid had taken her in.

Emma couldn't help the smile tugging at the corner of her lips, though it quickly faded when Ingrid went pale and began to cough. It came on suddenly and violently, just like all her coughing fits did. Ingrid hunched over, gasping in deep breaths as her coughing fit tore through her. It didn't look pleasant at all and with each passing day, Emma's concern only seemed to grow

Emma placed her hand on the small of Ingrid's back when she finished. "You okay?"

"Of course. Just a cold," Ingrid told her this as if there was more to the story. She pulled out her handkerchief to wipe her mouth.

"You should get that cold looked at," Emma prompted. "It should have gone away by now…"

Ingrid brushed her off, the same way she always did when Emma mentioned the cough. "I will. I promise. For now, let's enjoy this beautiful day. Shall we carry on?"

Emma wanted to argue, but before she could comment on it, Ingrid folded the handkerchief away and Emma was left wondering if she had imagined it stained with specks of blood.

-x-

"How'd you find me?" Emma asked her curiously that same evening.

They were sitting at the kitchen table in their simple cottage home. Ingrid had baked her a chocolate cake, a tradition they started awhile back. It had always been the two of them and that was enough for Emma. At least, it always had been enough.

Lately, Emma had been having incredibly weird dreams of princes and princesses and evil queens. Strange thing was she could never remember the faces of the people in her dreams. Normally, she wouldn't have questioned them, but she couldn't shake the idea that these dreams meant something more.

Ingrid gave her a curious look. "Haven't I told you the story a million times?" Ingrid teased.

"I know. I know. But I literally can't remember _anything_ before the age of eight. Isn't that weird?" Emma asked, shoving a piece of chocolate cake into her mouth. She held up her wrist and flashed it in Ingrid's face. "Like how did I get this scar?"

Ingrid shrugged. "Our minds have a funny way of blocking out the bad stuff."

"I suppose." Emma shrugged, suddenly finding her plate much more interesting.

"What's this about Emma?"

Emma grew incredibly quiet at that, debating whether or not she should tell Ingrid about the dreams. She wasn't sure why she was even hesitating. She had told Ingrid a thousand other things that probably weren't appropriate for a daughter to tell her mother: like about the boy she had first kissed or the other one who had taken her innocence and then broke her heart. She even told Ingrid about having magic as well, which was a crime punishable by death if the Queen ever knew. _That's_ how much Emma trusted Ingrid, with her life.

Emma took a deep breath. "It's just… I have been having dreams."

"What kind of dreams?"

Before Emma could answer, a loud bang came from the front door. Both women gave each other knowing looks. While it was rather late for company, it wasn't necessarily unusual for them to receive it. Ingrid cracked open the door just enough to greet their visitor. When she saw who it was, Ingrid gasped and threw the door open to let them inside.

"Please," a man in his forties sobbed. He held a girl no more than thirteen in his arms. The girl clearly belonged to him. Even from a distance, Emma could see they both shared the same pale skin and dark hair. "I heard…I heard you could help."

"Quickly. Come inside before someone sees," Ingrid told him hurriedly. "Set her on the table."

Emma jumped to her feet. A few people knew about Ingrid's powers and they came to her in time of need. Ingrid did everything she could to heal the sick and in return, they kept her secret well.

The moment the man set the girl on the table, Emma caught the source of the bleeding: a gash on the girl's forehead.

"We've been traveling," the man choked out, rambling now.

That explained why Emma had never seen them around town before. However, she couldn't shake the feeling that she had met them somewhere before. The door was thrown open then before Emma could ponder further on that. Emma glanced up to find a woman with hair as red as a rose standing in the doorway.

"Eric!" the woman shouted, sobbing out his name. When she laid eyes on him, she nearly collapsed into his arms. "Is she okay? Please tell me she will be okay."

It took a long moment before Ingrid nodded. "Yes," she whispered. "I do believe I can help her."

Ingrid waved her hands over the girl's lifeless body, whispering words even Emma didn't comprehend. Ingrid was a great sorcerer and Emma hoped that one day she could be even half as powerful as Ingrid was. Finally, after a few minutes, the girl's cut faded away to a small white line, and if it hadn't been for the blood, now cracked and dried against the girl's pale skin, you never would have known she'd hit her head.

Ingrid let out a deep breath and plopped down heavily in the chair behind her. Emma knew that whatever spell Ingrid just performed took its toll on her. They always did, but Ingrid never turned away a stranger in need, no matter how exhausting or strenuous the healing process may be. She _always_ helped and one day Emma feared it would kill her.

"What's your daughter's name, sweetheart?" Ingrid asked, breathing heavily.

"Melody," the woman said, her voice wobbling with emotion. "Her name is Melody. She was playing with the other kids…climbing a tree. We looked away for _one_ second—"

Ingrid held up her hand, cutting the woman off. "It doesn't matter how it happened. What matters is that Melody is going to be just fine."

"Really?" the woman whispered. When Ingrid nodded, the woman threw herself into Ingrid's arms. "Oh, thank you. _Thank you."_

"Thank you," the woman's husband nodded from behind them. He was crying too now. "Please tell us how we can ever repay you. Anything you ask is yours"

Judging from the looks of them, Emma suspected that the couple could actually see through with that request. They looked incredibly wealthy, even in their 'laid back' state of dress, which didn't particularly align with Emma's meaning of 'laid back.'

However, Ingrid just shook her head. "No need to thank me…?"

"Ariel," the woman jumped in. "And this is my husband. Eric."

-x-

The couple ended up staying with them throughout the night, something Ingrid typically offered after a healing. Ingrid turned to bed rather quickly though, no doubt exhausted from saving a life. She asked the couple to wake her should anything happen.

Emma heard the coughing fit all the same and she gave her foster mother a pointed look.

_I'm fine. Needn't worry about me, Emma._

Emma sighed, knowing there was no sense in arguing with her. Emma wasn't tired though, nor did she want to fall asleep only to be plagued with more nightmares, at least not in the remaining hours of her birthday. She found herself in the study, reading by the candlelight when the floorboards creaked from behind her.

"You remind me of someone."

Emma glanced up from her book, somewhat surprised to find the woman named Ariel still up. She assumed she'd be with her husband and daughter upstairs, but one look at the woman told Emma that perhaps nightmares plagued Ariel too.

Emma set the book aside. "I was going to say the same thing to you," she told her.

Ariel especially reminded Emma of someone she had met before. It was on the tip of her tongue, just out of reach. She couldn't shake the feeling that they had met somewhere before. It was like trying to remember a dream you had forgotten.

That brought a smile to the redhead's face. "Yes. A friend from long ago…" Ariel trailed off and the smile fell from her face as suddenly as it appeared.

"I'm sorry," Emma cut in, knowing the feeling too well. "About your friend."

Ariel shook her head. "It was a long time ago." Then gesturing to Emma, she said, "She had a daughter who'd be about your age by now and a son who'd be a little older than my Melody."

Emma was too afraid to ask what happened to them, knowing the story did not have a happy ending. Thankfully, Ariel continued on, changing the subject entirely.

"I…I don't know how I will ever repay you and your mother."

Emma didn't bother correcting her. She looked enough like Ingrid with her blonde hair and bright eyes that many people mistook them as mother and daughter.

"Oh. There's no need—"

"Eric and I will be throwing a ball in two months for Melody's thirteenth birthday…a coming of age type thing. I would be honored to have you and your mother as our guests."

"A ball…" Emma's eyes grew wide. Only princesses and princes threw balls.

"We will set up transportation and everything. It isn't terribly far from here actually. A couple days by ship, about a week by carriage. It's the least we can do."

"That would….that would be wonderful," Emma settled with, knowing that this was exactly what Ariel, as well as herself, needed to hear.

-x-

As it so happened, life was incredibly fragile.

Emma's excitement for the ball overshadowed her better judgement and she neglected to acknowledge Ingrid's worsening state. When Ingrid coughed, Ingrid told her it was just a cold. When Ingrid got tired walking up a flight of stairs, Ingrid told her it was just her age. Emma believed the lies, accepted them because a part of her knew the truth and it was a truth she wasn't ready to accept. Until one day, Ingrid collapsed at the market and Emma had to face her worst fear.

Tuberculosis the doctor told her later.

Ingrid had hid it well from her and Emma felt incredibly ignorant that she had not noticed sooner.

"But you _heal_ people," Emma sobbed after she found out. "Why can't you heal yourself?"

"Somethings aren't meant to be fixed, my darling," Ingrid told her with a genuine smile.

Emma sat by her foster mother's side every night, reading her bedtime stories until they fell asleep together. Even though the doctor had said there was nothing they could do, Emma refused to believe it. When Ingrid slept, Emma huddled over Ingrid's spell books, doing everything in her power to find something that might save her foster mother's life.

"Emma, what are you doing?" came Ingrid's voice one night.

Emma jumped, startled that her mother was up this late. The book of spells fell to the floor with a loud bang. She bit her lip, knowing very well that Ingrid had been watching her for quite some time. When she remained stubbornly silent, Ingrid held out her hand and gestured for Emma to come closer.

"Emma, come here my darling."

Emma sat on her bed and intertwined her hand with hers.

"I've arranged for you to be transported to Arendelle—"

"Arendelle!" Emma shouted, aghast.

"Emma please listen to me. You have to listen," Ingrid said, a rush of urgency in her voice. "I'm afraid I don't have much time. I have a sister. She has two daughters who should be about your age."

"Ingrid—"

"—tell them who you are and they'll take you in. They will _help_ you."

Emma shook her head. She would not leave her mother, not after everything Ingrid had done for her. "No. I won't leave you. Not like this."

"Emma," Ingrid whispered. "I want to tell you a secret. A great secret that will see you through all the trials life has to offer and it has power. More than you know." Ingrid smiled up at her, cupping her hand with her cheek. "Have courage and be kind, my darling. Will you promise me that?"

Emma nodded, tears coming freely now, very much knowing they did not have much time. "I promise," she whispered, though she wasn't sure if she even brought the words to life.

Ingrid's eyes grew sad, as if she was trying to remember something from long ago. "Emma, I'm afraid I did a terrible thing. You asked me once why you couldn't remember anything before the age of eight."

Emma held her breath, unable to process it. She watched as Ingrid took out a purple stone. "A very long time ago you asked me to help you forget." Ingrid gave her a teary-eyed smile and placed the pebble in the palm of her hand. "When you're ready this will tell you who you really are. Okay?"

Emma glanced down. The pebble, now glowing with life, weighed heavily in her hand. "I…I don't understand."

"You will, my darling Emma. I promise you will."

Emma tried to give the pebble back. She didn't want to remember. She didn't care what Ingrid had done to make her forget, knowing it would have been for a good reason. She wasn't ready to lose Ingrid and she would have gladly chosen to never remember at all if it meant saving Ingrid's life.

Emma bit her lip. "I don't want to lose you."

"I'll always be right here," she told her, pointing right at her heart.

And that was enough. Emma collapsed into Ingrid's arms and sobbed for the only mother she had ever known.

-x-

Emma _did not_ go to Arendelle.

As soon as she had her memories back, she immediately regretted it. It was as if someone had waked her from a very pleasant dream, only to throw her into a dark and everlasting nightmare. Along with those memories came the ghosts of her past and they whispered to her constantly.

She dreamt of beasts, evil queens and her castle on a cloud, consumed in flames. She cried for her mother, her father, her baby brother, Pinocchio and even Ingrid.

_"_ _On her…twenty-eighth …birthday the child will return. The child will find you and the final battle will begin!"_

Emma gasped, collapsing to the ground, finding it incredibly difficult to breathe. At the memory of the beast, she immediately tried getting the stupid pebble to take away her memories again. However, she couldn't figure out how to do it, so she ended up chucking it into the ocean.

_"_ _They will help you,"_ Ingrid's words echoed in her ear. At the time, Emma had thought Ingrid meant that her sister would take her in, but after she got her memories back, Emma suspected that Ingrid meant much more than a simple caretaker.

Naturally, Emma did the one thing she was good at: she ran.

She ended up in Tortuga, in the opposite direction of Arendelle and found a job as a barmaid there. That lasted almost two years before she picked herself up and moved to the next town.

Roland was friendly and his father Robin had been more than welcoming to let her stay as long as she needed. They taught her archery and how to pickpocket and steal without getting caught, among many things. When she found the familiar sense of family creeping up behind her, she ran again, this time to two towns over so neither of them or their merry men would follow her.

Emma did this every year or so, picking up her life, never staying in any place for too long. She did this mostly out of fear, knowing that the Evil Queen had actually been looking for _her_ all those years, but also because she knew things were better this way.

_Don't get attached._

You couldn't have love without loss, nor pain without heartbreak. Love. It didn't sweep you up off your feet. No, Emma thought. It just knocked you down and drowned you slowly. Heartbreak was inevitable when it came to love.

Since she lost Ingrid, she found life much easier to cope and deal with things on her own. At least this way, she had no one to worry about but herself. It was better this way… which was probably how Emma found herself celebrating her twenty-eighth birthday alone. She bought a chocolate cupcake at the market and brought it down to the docks. It was her secret hiding spot, a place for her to escape the hustle and bustle of the crowds.

A place where she could just think.

Emma sat down in the sand and balanced the cupcake on her knees. Then with the snap of her fingers, she ignited the candle with a hiss. She pictured Ingrid sitting next to her, egging her on to make a wish.

Emma smiled, almost half expecting Ingrid would be sitting next to her.

_Don't get attached_ , she thought, though a part of her couldn't help but wish she wasn't alone for once, at least, on her birthday.

Emma blew out the candle with a sigh.

"Excuse me."

Emma jumped a mile high and her cupcake fell to the ground, icing now smashed and all covered with sand. The ruined cupcake should not have upset her as much as it did. She shot her unwelcomed visitor a pointed look. She was surprised to find an elderly man with a long white beard and dressed in strange clothing standing before her.

"Sorry. I didn't mean to scare you." Then glancing at her cupcake, he said, "I'm sorry about the cupcake."

"I…no. It's alright," Emma told him. "I didn't think anyone came out here."

The man shrugged. "I was told I may find you here," he told her calmly.

She had been at Port Captiva for less than six months and Emma already had something of a reputation. She had developed many tricks and talents on the run, the most notable of which being thievery. She was a good thief, mostly because she had learned from the best and also because no one ever suspected the blonde-haired girl with the pretty face.

"Do you have a name?" she asked coldly, still upset about the cupcake.

The old man gave her a friendly smile. "Names are not important."

"They rarely are," she muttered.

"Perhaps…though I would suspect they matter a great deal to some," he told her, giving her a pointed look of his own.

Emma's heart began to beat loudly inside her chest.

_He couldn't know. He couldn't possibly know._

"I'm looking for a hat of sorts, though it looks rather more like a box," the man continued before she could comment on that. "I'm afraid the man who took it likely does not even realize the ability it possesses. If he did…well I'd gather he'd be long dead by now."

Emma's eyebrows shot up. "A hat?" most people wanted her to steal meaningful things, like jewelry. She wondered if he was just playing with her, but the man just kept smiling. "And who has your hat?"

The man hardly blinked an eye. "His name is Captain Jones, though you may know him better as Captain Hook."

Emma balked, mouth falling open. "You want me to rob _Captain Hook?"_

The man simply nodded.

Emma bit her lip. She had heard stories about the Captain, rumors here and there, but stories all the same. If any of them were even slightly true, well…Emma didn't particularly want to think about what he would do to her if he caught her.

"And what's in it for me?" Emma challenged.

The man hardly hesitated. "Your secret." He paused, letting that sink in. "If you get back my hat, I'll keep your secret, Your Highness."

It had the same effect as being hit with a bucket of cold water, and for a moment, Emma forgot how to breathe. The whole world seemed to sway beneath her feet. Emma swallowed the lump in her throat.

"I…I don't know what you're talking about," she told him, but it was a meek attempt and she hated how incredibly fragile she sounded in that moment.

"The sorcerer knows a great deal," he said in that calm voice of his again. His ability to remain so friendly, even after he had just threatened her, made her blood boil.

"If you know a sorcerer why don't you get him to get it for you?

"It doesn't work that way." The man paused again, as if some great insight had just occurred to him.

"Fine. I'll do it," she told him after a moment.

"We can meet here tomorrow morning," he told her.

Despite their agreement, a thousand questions seemed to have exploded in her head. _Who was he? What was the hat for? What did it do? Why her?_ Emma glanced down, finding the sand beneath her feet much more interesting. She wondered how she ended up in this predicament. She had been so careful over the years, or at least she thought she had been. Not to mention, the majority of the Enchanted Forest thought Princess Emma was dead.

As if reading her mind, the old man spoke up again. "I'm a firm believer in fate, Miss Swan. I do believe everyone needs a shove in the right direction at times."

Her eyebrows scrunched together in confusion. "How do you know my name?" But when she looked up, the man was already gone.

-x-

Captain Hook.

Madness. Sheer madness.

The rumors had spread quickly that the infamous Captain Hook was in town. He'd been there for a little over two weeks now. Naturally, she avoided the pub they seemed fond of each night. The women at the market gushed over the pirate Captain. _Handsome._ They called him. And she almost cut in with _pirate._ Still, she heard the rumors all the same and she shuddered at the thought of what he'd do to her if he actually caught her trying to steal from him.

_Rumors_ , she reminded herself.

Aside from the hook, he didn't _look_ that dangerous, she thought as she watched him from the back of the pub. He was with a few other men and they seemed to be playing some sort of gambling game. Figures, she thought, inwardly rolling her eyes. There was a woman pressed up against him, who seemed _a lot_ more interested in him than he did in her. He was handsome though, she had to admit, not to mention he was _a lot_ younger than she originally thought. She had heard stories about him since she'd been a kid. She couldn't fathom how it was even possible that he didn't look a day over thirty.

Of course, she had heard of ways to cheat death, though he didn't particularly look like someone who possessed Dark Magic. She knew better than anyone that appearances could be rather deceiving.

_This was just like any other job,_ she told herself. _You've done this countless of times._

She tried not to think that she had never actually robbed a pirate before, nor one so famous or dangerous as him.

Emma sighed.

It was now or never. She rarely went headfirst into anything, especially when she didn't know what she was getting herself into. However, that old man knew her darkest secret, one she refused to even acknowledge herself. She wanted to get this task over and done with so she could get of this town by morning.

Emma stood up, ruffled her hair and undid the laces of her bodice just enough to reveal a little bit of cleavage. If Captain Hook was looking for a bar wench then a bar wench he would get. Emma inhaled deeply and then with all the courage she could muster, she waltzed over to his table as confidently as she was able to. She figured Captain Hook, of all people, would find a woman who knew what she wanted more attractive than the bimbo currently sitting in his lap.

_"_ _What are you boys playing?"_

He looked up, his bright blue eyes flashing with her green ones.

Well, damn.

-x-

For the first time since…well, _ever,_ Killian was rather speechless. The blonde girl with the striking green eyes had thrown him for quite the loop. He hadn't seen her around town before, at least, he was fairly certain, though he was typically rather inebriated when it came to nights out with his crew and he hadn't been in this part of the Enchanted Forest for very long.

She arched an eyebrow and he cleared his throat, realizing he should probably say something. He shot Simmons a dirty look, who caught the hint.

"Eh…I'll go get us another round," Simmons muttered, racing off to the bar.

Killian gestured to the now empty seat across from him. "By all means."

The blonde girl with the striking eyes gave him a flirtatious smile, though said nothing at all. He smirked. So the ball was in his court. He pushed the dice towards her.

"Five dice," he began, not taking his eyes off her as he spoke. "Before each round, we all post an ante bet." He threw a silver coin down on the table in front of them. Much to his surprise, she pulled out a tiny pouch and matched his bet. His lips tugged upwards, impressed. Typically, women pretended as if they didn't have a dime on them.

He felt arms wrap around his torso then. He had completely forgotten about the girl whose name he couldn't remember sitting next to him. He removed her arms without a word, before turning back to the blonde. She smirked at him. She bore no hint of jealously. She just sat there watching him intently, waiting for him to continue.

"We all take a turn rolling the dice. Lowest score wins. Threes are worth zero, so rolling all threes is the best possible score. You can also win the game by rolling all sixes. You can roll a maximum of five times, though each roll you must set aside at least one dice….Savvy?"

The girl nodded. "Seems simple enough."

He nodded towards the dice. "Ladies first."

She scoped up the dice and rolled them onto the table. She rolled three threes and her eyebrows shot up, smiling widely and something fluttered in his heart, which he blamed on the rum. She set the three dice aside and rolled the remaining two dice. One rolled a four and the other flashed a six. She smiled again, picking up the six and rolled it once more.

Three.

She glanced up at him, her green eyes sparklingly with pride. "I believe that makes a total of four. Correct?" he nodded and she pushed the dice back to him. "Your turn, Captain."

Killian chuckled. He wasn't nearly as lucky, earning himself a total score of ten. Typically, he hated loosing, but something about the pride flashing in her eyes and the subtle hint of rose in her cheeks made him care very little that she had just taken his money.

"Beginners luck," he told her, pushing the money towards her.

She flashed him that pretty smile of hers again and he felt his cheeks flush with heat, which he too blamed on the rum.

Speaking of rum.

"Alright," Simmons said, returning with several beers balanced on a tray. "This rounds on me!"

He handed her a pint, wondering what she'd do now. The ball was in her court. She raised her glass to meet his. "Cheers."

He clunked his glass with hers and he watched as she titled her head back and downed half her drink in one breath.

He grinned. "Cheers indeed."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Promise from here on out it'll be Captain Swan. Let me know what you think!


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Next update probably won't be for awhile. I'm heading on vacation for the next week but wanted to update before I left.
> 
> Enjoy.

Captain Hook was many things, the majority of which Emma had not expected from a pirate Captain. He was rather charming for starters and he was somewhat of a gentleman, though she suspected this had more to do with him wanting to get under her skirts than actually wanting to talk the night away with her. She didn't mind though. She didn't plan to let it go _that_ far. Besides, she couldn't deny that she was actually enjoying herself for once.

"I have a confession to make," she told him later, once they were finally alone. She was sitting next to him now. The bimbo who had been sitting next to him earlier had left sometime in their third round of beer. The girl, whose name Emma had never caught, finally seemed to realize that the Captain found interest elsewhere. Emma was fairly certain she caught the word _whore_ under the girl's breath, but Emma just shot her a pretty smile to see her off.

"Most women do."

"I want to know how you got the hook," she teased him with a smile. She gently ran her hand over the cool metal. "You hear so many stories."

In actuality, she _did_ want to know how Captain Hook became _Captain Hook._ She was fairly certain the elderly man had said his name was something Jones, but she couldn't recall his first. He had to have one, after all, not that she would stick around long enough to find out. In the morning, she'd be long gone and he'd wake up blaming it all on the rum.

"So," Hook said, sliding closer to her than what was probably considered appropriate. "You know who I am and you haven't even told me your name."

She tried not to think about how his eyes darkened with lust when he spoke. She was beginning to understand why the women at the market had gushed over him earlier. She reached over to pour another shot into his glass.

It was too easy. He was practically in her lap and his hand had already found its way under the table and onto her knee. She smirked, knowing he would wish to take her back to his ship soon enough. Captain Hook certainly didn't care about her name. To him she was just another wench to keep him occupied at night and that was exactly what she needed him to believe.

"What fun would that be?"

"Just two ships passing in the night then?" he asked her. She didn't miss the subtle draw of irritation. She had already scared away his one 'nightcap' for the evening and she almost felt guilty that he would not be getting anything from her that night.

She quirked an eyebrow at him. "Passing closely I hope."

"Speaking of ships, what do you say we leave this place and I'll show you mine?"

Oh the innuendos, he was good, she'd give him that.

"Wait," she whispered, placing her hand above his knee. She felt him twitch. "Why don't we have a few drinks first?"

Oh and drink they did. Well, he drank anyway. Every time she poured them a shot, she ended up tossing hers somewhere behind her. The more he drank, the more he talked, though she doubted that he needed alcohol to charm a lady.

She couldn't remember everything they talked about. Random things, nothing personal, but it was pleasant and welcoming, and she realized she hadn't had this much fun in an incredibly long time. Not since…well…she didn't want to go there. Tonight was about getting this so called magic hat and getting the hell out of town.

"If I didn't know any better I'd say you were trying to get me drunk, which is usually my tactic," he slurred, pointing accusingly at her.

She grinned. Oh, he was definitely drunk now, and she knew he'd have trouble remembering this in the morning. She cocked her head to the side, going in for the kill. "What's wrong Captain? Can't hold your rum?"

He grinned back and her heart fluttered just the tinniest bits when his eyes flashed to meet hers. Gods they were so blue… _Get ahold of yourself. This was Captain freakin' Hook!_

"Not only can I hold it, but I can carry it right out the door," he told her, leaning in close enough to catch the smell of rum on his breath. Yeah, he definitely wasn't going to last much longer. "What do you say we set sail?" He stood up, clearly done with the tavern. "Come back with me for a nightcap or shall I find someone else?"

Ah, and there was the Captain Hook she'd heard about.

She nodded, suddenly shy and a little bit bashful. When he slipped his hand into hers, her heart began to beat rapidly inside her chest. She rolled her eyes at herself and reminded herself to pull herself together because they would _not_ be under any circumstances doing _that_ tonight.

For the most part, Emma found Hook's ability to walk in a straight line, even drunk and carrying a bottle of rum, quite remarkable. But then he kept glancing up at the stars every now and then. In doing so, he lost his balance and he fell backwards into the grass, pulling her down with him. She landed on top of him with an 'umph' and when his blue eyes met hers, she felt her cheeks go three shades brighter. She was thankful it was dark enough that he probably hadn't noticed.

"Can't hold your rum, Captain?" she said, not meaning it to come out as much of a whisper as it had.

He barked out a laugh. "Apologies, love." He glanced behind her, gesturing to the stars. "It's just the first clear night we've had in a while. It has been awhile since I've seen the stars…well _these_ stars anyway."

She gave him a peculiar look, an amused one before rolling off him. She laid next to him, their shoulders touching in the grass. A star shot across the sky.

"Oh!" she exclaimed, surprised. "A shooting star."

"It's a long one," Hook agreed. He got this distant look in his eye then. "My brother told me once that every time you saw one it was a soul going to heaven."

There was something in the way his voice dropped, voided of any emotion at all that made her believe he was mentally far, far away. She suspected that if he were in his right state of mind, he'd be appalled that he was telling her any of this. She knew this better than anyone, after all.

"I like that," she told him. Then before he realized that he had revealed too much, she asked him, "Aren't we suppose to wish on it?"

Hook's eyebrows scrunched together with an emotion she couldn't quite place. "Why?" he asked, but she heard the wobble in his voice all the same and she suddenly had an inkling that they had a lot more in common than she ever would have guessed. "What would you wish for?"

Emma swallowed the lump in her throat. His question surprised her. It was raw and personal. _Too personal,_ and he was looking at her with those blue eyes of his again with an intensity she hadn't known existed before. She shook her head. This wasn't what she signed up for. She hadn't expected him to be so… _human._

_Don't get attached,_ the small voice in her head reminded herself.

"I believe a nightcap was promised, Captain," she settled with eventually. She meant it to come out breathy and flirty, but it just came out shy, frail and lost.

Thankfully, Hook knew how to charm a lady and he was back to flirting with her the moment they were back on their feet. Honestly, if she hadn't needed to go back to his ship, she would have ditched him the moment he asked her what she would wish for.

_Don't get attached._

"Behold!" he said, breaking through her thoughts. "The Jolly Roger!"

"Captain!" a crew member with a bright red hat shouted.

"What now, Smee!?" Hook snapped and Emma took the opportunity without hesitation.

Perhaps if his crew could distract him long enough, she could find the hat and leave before he even came looking for her. She tossed a lie over her shoulder, mumbling something about how she'd be waiting in his cabin for him. He ate her fake, petty voice right up.

It didn't take her long to find it. His cabin was small and surprisingly cozy. A bookshelf took up the one side, his bed on the other, and a desk sat right in the center. She glanced around, wondering where she'd keep a magic hat if she had one. That was about the exact moment she came crashing back down to reality.

This was stupid.

It was as if her physically standing inside his cabin made her realize the stupidity of her plan. She had never walked so blindly into a job before. She didn't even know if this magic hat or box or whatever the hell she was looking for was even in his cabin at all. It could have been _anywhere_ on the ship. Hell, he could have gotten rid of it by now for all she knew, which was the problem. _She didn't know anything._ She only knew what some sixty-year-old crazy person told her and all because he claimed to know her secret.

So stupid. So incredibly stupid. She should have just fled with the little money she had left—

"Now where would you be going?" his voice came from behind her and her heart fluttered again, though this time more out of panic than anything else. He was blocking her only way out and he bore a dark, sinful look in his eye. Emma wondered how the hell she was going to get out of this one. "I do hope you're not having second thoughts."

"No I just got tired of waiting," she told him as breathlessly as she could.

Not really knowing what else to do, she grabbed him by the lapels of his jacket and kissed him. She sensed his surprise nearly as much as her own. It took him a moment to respond, but when he did… _Gods. S_ he tried not to think about it though. How his kisses made her go weak at the knees or how it awakened a flutter in her cold heart.

_Get what you came here for._

She peaked open an eye, desperately trying to think of an escape route. His cabin wasn't really that big, so if he was keeping the hat there, then it shouldn't have been too hard to find. A little locator spell would do the trick just nicely, she thought.

He stumbled then, breaking her thoughts. He pulled back slightly to get a better look at her. "My apologies, a woman as beautiful as yourself deserves my full and prompt attention."

She wondered how many women he had used that pickup line on. Hook leaned down and captured his lips with hers again. She had to admit, he was a good kisser. She could taste the rum on his lips and smell the familiar scent of sea on his coat. The senses were overwhelming and for one startling moment, she found herself actually _enjoying_ herself.

He pushed her back into his desk. With little effort, he had her on top of it and was standing between her legs in no time. His good hand tangled in her hair while his hook pushed up at her skirts. Emma held onto him a little tighter, anchoring herself against him and the desk. It surprised her (though it really shouldn't have) that the amount of alcohol he had consumed had little effect on his ability to perform.

He pressed his hips into hers and she could _feel_ just how much he wanted her. For a brief moment, Emma wondered what the harm would be if she did actually let him take her. It wasn't as if this was her first rodeo (though it had been a while) and _oh gods,_ the thing he was doing with his tongue on her neck right now was making it very difficult to think of anything else.

"Gods, you're beautiful," he gasped huskily in her ear and she felt heat pool between her legs.

He captured her lips again and she groaned slightly at his possessiveness. That only seemed to fuel his desire. His kisses were hot and demanding and she accepted them, wanting them almost more than he did.

But then she felt the coolness of metal touching her bare thigh and that was enough to snap her back to reality. _Who was she kidding?_ She had stolen for a countless number of people over the years. Not once had she let it get that far because this was a _job_ and she couldn't stoop to that level—even if a part of her _really_ wanted to.

However, easier said than done, because his hook was creeping dangerously up her thigh now and his other hand had already started to fumble with the front laces of her bodice. Lips still attached to his, Emma reached out her hand and fumbled around, searching for anything that had some weight to it. She didn't particularly want to use magic, but she would use it if she had to.

Just as Hook managed to undo the last lace of her dress, her hand grasped on what felt like a candlestick. Hook tugged at her dress, attempting to tear it off her, and he nearly did too. However, she brought the candlestick down heavily on his head before he could do just that.

Hook froze against her and Emma froze too, wondering if she would have to hit him again. But she felt his weight sag into her, as he lost consciousness completely. With a gentle shove, Emma pushed him off her and he fell backwards onto the floor.

Emma quickly readjusted herself. She blushed when she realized just how close he had been in freeing her from her dress. She quickly retied the laces and double knotted them at the top. She shot him a glance and couldn't help but wince. He would definitely feel that in the morning and she only hoped he would blame it on the rum.

Now for this damn hat.

Emma twirled around, wondering where to even begin looking. She gave up after five minutes of searching before resorting to magic. She pulled at its heartstrings and the familiar tingling sensation in her fingertips kicked to life. With a simple flick, she released it. It took her several attempts before she actually managed to do the spell she wanted. She wasn't exactly very good at magic, and she very nearly set his cabin on fire in the process.

Ingrid had showed her things here and there, though Ingrid's powers aligned more to ice and snow, whereas Emma's seemed to be one big, chaotic mess. Not to mention, when the Evil Queen made magic a law punishable by death, practicing didn't come too often.

Thankfully, the spell eventually worked and even more thankfully, the hat was actually in his cabin, not hidden somewhere else on the ship. In fact, she found it lying in the first drawer of his desk. Emma frowned when she pulled out the box. It certainly didn't look like a hat. She doubted it meant much value to him at all and she suspected he wouldn't even notice it missing.

She was just about to leave when her eye caught something shimmering in the moonlight by the stairs near the door. She picked up the silver chain, surprised to find a simple ring attached at the end. It wasn't extravagant or lavish as the other ones he wore. In fact, it was rather plain and simple. It must have fallen off him. She pocketed the ring, figuring he wouldn't notice the plain one missing either. He had enough rings as it was. She figured she could sell it and get the money she needed to get as far away from the Enchanted Forest as possible, somewhere nobody had ever heard of a princess named Emma.

-x-

In the morning, Killian found himself on the floor of his cabin with a raging headache. It pulsated right at his temples, so loudly, that he could hear the beating of his heart echoing out around the room. He blinked several times before he realized that he was in fact in his cabin and not in some random barmaid's bed. How he ended up on the floor though, he couldn't recall and most likely would never know. Killian pushed himself up and immediately regretted it. The room swayed around him. He groaned loudly and he had to cradle his head in his hand to make it stop.

He retraced last night's events but everything seemed to pass by him in a blur. Images here and there flashed across his mind, but nothing concrete. It was rather like trying to remember a long, lost forgotten dream. He could remember the tavern, gambling the night away with his crew. He also remembered drinking with a woman—a blonde one with striking eyes, or at least, he _thought_ he did. He could remember bits and pieces of her, like her smile and how it had warned his heart—

No, he thought. That was impossible. It must have been a dream.

Killian forced himself to stand. He did his best to rid himself of the smell of rum and last night's shenanigans before choosing to emerge from his cabin. He would have been content to just sleep the day away, but he needed to prepare his ship and get her ready for the long journey ahead of them. They'd be setting sail at dusk if everything went according to plan.

"Rough night, Captain?"

Killian blinked back the sunlight, blinded for a moment as he stepped out onto the deck. The sun sat high in the sky, indicating to him that he had overslept. _Seven Hells, what time was it?_ When his eyes finally adjusted, he spotted August sitting on an overturned barrel and grinning at him with a knowing glint in his eyes. Considering the lack of his crew out and about, Killian thought it was safe to say that he wasn't the only one who had a rough night.

"Or should I say _good_?" August piped up again.

Killian shot him a dirty look as he sat down across from him. Then unable to help himself, Killian chuckled. "If I could only remember."

"Ohhh. One of _those_ nights," August said, tossing him an apple.

Killian caught it and nodded his thanks. He couldn't remember when exactly August joined the crew, sometime during their many trips to and from Neverland he was fairly certain. Despite being one of the newest members, August hardly had to prove himself. Killian trusted the man with his life, a rarity in itself, for he did not give out trust lightly.

Killian bent over, groaning. Gods help him. He actually couldn't remember the last _real_ hangover he had in years. He was use to drinking, use to rum and use to over indulging every now and then, but this was something else entirely. It was as if someone had smashed a bottle of rum over his head…

"You okay…?" August asked him.

Killian ran his hand over his eyes. "Bloody headache is all. I'll live."

August pointed to the side of his head. "That might explain it. Nasty bump there. Tough lass I take it?"

Killian paled. His eyes found August's unerringly fast. "What?" he snapped.

August seemed just as confused as he did. "What?"

"What lass?" he asked through gritted teeth.

August busted out a laugh. "Gods. How much did you drink last night?" At the piercing look Killian just sent him, August caught the hint. He cleared his throat and explained quickly. "…eh yeah. You came home with some blonde. I didn't get a good look at her. She wasn't here for very long. Left in quite a hurry actually…"

Killian jumped to his feet and headed towards his cabin before August could even finish telling him the whole story. He didn't need to hear anymore. He remembered well enough. The night was coming back to him now in jumbled pieces here and there. He realized now how incredibly stupid he had been.

_What are you boys playing?_

Killian clenched his fist, knuckles turning white. She had known what she wanted the moment she stepped foot in the tavern and it certainly wasn't a _nightcap._

_Just two ships passing in the night then?_

_Passing closely, I hope._

She had staked him out. She had purposely gotten him drunk. She had bested him and he honestly wasn't sure if it annoyed him more that he hadn't caught onto her act or if he was more impressed in her ability to trick him. Killian let out a bitter laugh. He could count the number of people who had bested him on one hand—no pun intended.

Killian threw open his door so fast it nearly tore from the hinges. He glanced urgently around his cabin, wondering what in Seven Hells the blonde could have possibly wanted from him. Whatever she wanted had certainly been on his ship. He spotted a candlestick tossed carelessly on the ground. Killian brought his hand up to his head and felt the bump there. Well, that explained that at least.

Still, he couldn't think of what she needed. They hadn't been in town very long, having only arrived from Neverland no more than a fortnight ago. Killian did recall robbing an elderly man when they first came into town, though that had occurred several miles away from the tavern. He didn't recall anything fascinating about the robbery, only that the man had just been sitting on the road, as if he had been _waiting_ for them to rob him. He didn't even remember what they had stolen, only that they'd been drunk, wanting to steal simply because they _could_ steal _._

He was pirate, after all. They stole for a living. He had a lot of gold and a lot of things in his cabin that many would consider valuable. Not him though, he kept all his valuables right on him at all times—

Killian's hand shot to his chest.

When he didn't find his brother's ring in its familiar and rightful place, he began to panic. He dropped to his knees, searching desperately for the ring that had once belonged to the noblest man he had ever known. It must have fallen off him, he thought. It had fallen off once before and he nearly murdered a member of his crew who caught him at the peak of his bad moment.

_It had to be here. She didn't take it. It had to be here._

As the minutes passed and still no sign of his brother's ring, he began to grow more and more desperate. He flipped over his desk, threw his mattress across the room and even tore each one of the books from the shelf. He didn't stop until he was certain that he had searched every nook and cranny, under every loose floorboard.

Once he accepted the fact that his ring was not in his cabin, he traded in his panic for wrath. He let it consume him. He was getting his ring back, one way or another.

So help him.

Even if it killed him.

-x-

Emma ended up sleeping outside that night. The moment she had the hat, she set off to where she had arranged to meet the elderly man. She knew he told her he wouldn't show until morning but a part of her still hoped that he'd be waiting for her there all the same. When she didn't find him there, she plopped herself down in the sand and wrapped her cloak tightly around herself. At least if Hook did wake up (which he wouldn't) and if he did happen to remember her (which he also wouldn't), he wouldn't think to look for her there.

Emma sighed and laid back to look up at the stars above her. The moon was high in the sky and surrounded by thousands and thousands of tiny white specks. Hook's empathy had surprised her. She caught a glimpse of the real man behind Captain Hook tonight. It occurred to her then that she had never learned his real name, which bothered her more than it probably should have.

_Don't get attached._

That was the last thought Emma remembered before succumbing to a surprisingly peaceful sleep. She woke up sometime later to the sound of birds chirping happily around her. She blinked several times before realizing that the sun was a _lot_ higher than it should have been. Emma shot up and immediately regretted it. She winced. Sleeping on the cold, hard ground certainly took its toll on her back, though it certainly wasn't the first time she slept without a roof over her head and it likely wouldn't be the last.

How long had she slept?

Emma stretched out her limbs until her body finally seemed to register that it was time to wake up. Emma's eyes snapped to the magic hat, which was still sitting next to her. A part of her had hoped the old man would have taken it while she slept. At least that way, she wouldn't have had to deal with him. Her eyes scrunched together in confusion when she caught the piece of parchment resting on top of it, secured with a small rock to keep from blowing away.

_Dear Miss Swan,_

_Thank you for returning this to me. However, you may find its ability to absorb the magic of even the most powerful of sorcerers more useful than I. Do me a favor and keep it safe for me for the time being._

_By any circumstances, do not let it fall into the wrong hands._

_Yours Truly._

Emma read and reread the note several times before finally accepting the fact that the old man had…what, tricked her? She wasn't entirely sure what he had done to her, nor did she understand the point of him threatening to reveal her true identity when he didn't even want the damn hat to begin with. Emma felt her hands spark. She smelt the smoke before she realized that, out of anger, she had managed to set the note on fire. She tried to put it out, but it just engulfed in flames and burnt to ash before she could salvage it.

Emma fought the urge to scream. It took her several moments to calm herself down and rein her magic back in. Her losing control happened every now and then, though she typically could calm herself down eventually. The last time she hadn't was shortly after she left Robin and Roland nearly four years ago. She ended up having to stay in some cave for several days, fearing that if she went into town, Regina's knights would find her and kill her on sight.

Emma picked up the box, having every intention to throw it into the ocean. She let out a startled yelp when an actual _hat_ popped out of it. Emma blinked, though now understanding why the old man kept referring to it as a hat instead of a box. It was quite remarkable actually, as if the hat had somehow managed to capture the entire galaxy inside of it.

She bit her lip, debating her options.

She ultimately decided to keep it. At least this way, last night wouldn't have been a complete waste. Who knew, maybe she would need it one day. As if the hat could read her mind, it collapsed back in on itself and turned back into the box she had taken from Hook's cabin.

Speaking of Hook…

Emma quickly pulled her things together and set back off in the direction of town. She needed to get out of there and fast. The old man new her secret and there was a good chance Hook remembered what she had done to him last night. At least, she still had his ring, which was tucked safely away in a hidden compartment of her boot, sealed with magic. She figured she could sell it to a traveling merchant or to another captain who'd be willing to take her to the next town. Emma didn't particularly care where she ended up, as long as it was as far from the Enchanted Forest as she could get.

Emma had not gone far when she heard a twig snap from behind her. Before she even turned around, her not so welcomed guest threw her off her feet and onto her back. For a moment, she only saw stars. Emma gasped, the wind momentarily knocked out of her. When she finally came to, she was startled, though not entirely surprised, to find Captain Hook himself pinning her to the ground.

"Sorry about that, lass," he told her, not sounding sorry in the slightest.

She gave him a piercing look. "Couldn't handle your rum, Captain?" she spat out, the flirtatious Emma from the tavern completely gone now. She briefly thought about zapping him with magic to throw him off her and make a run for it, but that would have only drawn attention to her. Not to mention, it would only confirm his suspicions that she had something to hide. Last thing she needed was to give him the idea that he could ransom her off to the Evil Queen.

"I'd say knocking your opponent out with a candlestick is bad form, lass," he told her, cocking his head to the side.

She shrugged. "I didn't ask your opinion."

"Good for you," he told her bitterly. "I can count the number of people who've bested me on one hand."

"Is that supposed to be funny?"

"Where is it?" he snapped at her.

His blue eyes grew several shades darker to the point they almost looked black. For the first time since she met him, she was beginning to believe the rumors about the infamous pirate Captain. Last night, she'd seen another side of the pirate who supposedly saw no mercy. She hadn't believed it then, and though it took her several moments to decide, she didn't believe it now either.

Captain Hook was merely an act.

When she didn't answer him, Hook sat up and grabbed her satchel. She roughly shoved him off her and scrambled to her feet. He then proceeded to dump all her contents on the forest floor. She watched him with her hands on her hips, annoyed.

"Really?" she huffed. He could have the stupid hat for all she cared. However, when he simply pushed it off to the side, forgotten, she scrunched her eyebrows together in confusion.

"Wait. If you don't want the..."

He gave her a pointed look and her mouth formed into a small 'O.' So the seemly plain ring meant a great deal to him after all.

She watched him for a moment and couldn't help but notice how his shoulders seemed to sag. He stood to face her then. The way he positioned his hook slightly out in front of him didn't go unnoticed by her. A subtle threat, she thought, though it didn't scare her. _He_ didn't scare her and she didn't know why. She suspected it was because she caught a glimpse of the man pretending to be Captain Hook last night when they were gazing up at the stars.

"Where is it?" he repeated, his voice incredibly monotone.

She decided to play dumb, knowing very well that she had the upper hand here now. "I'm afraid I don't know what you're talking about."

Perhaps she'd gotten a little too confident with herself and her ability to outsmart him because the next thing she knew was that he had her backed into a tree with his hook pressed dangerously into her throat. She suspected it wouldn't take much for him to draw blood if he wanted to.

"I'm not in the mood for games!" he shouted, frantic now. To prove it, he pressed the tip into her skin just a little more. "Tell me where you are keeping the ring. I know you have it."

"Alright" she blurted out. "I have it! Happy?"

Hook released his grip and took a step back in disbelief. Her confession seemed to startle something within him, a reaction she couldn't quite place. He didn't look relieved at all, only worn down and tired.

Sad.

He just looked sad.

His sadness didn't last, however. In the blink of an eye, he pulled himself back together and he simply held out his hand, waiting for her to give it back to him. She glanced at his palm and then back up to meet his gaze. His eyes were incredibly and strikingly blue, no longer dark and filled with rage.

"I could kill you," he told her when she didn't give it to him.

Her lie detector blared inside her head. He wouldn't kill her and she felt her body relax. "You could," she agreed. "But then you don't know where I'm keeping it."

He shot her a look, one that made her hesitate. Perhaps he would kill her. He was a pirate after all. She meant nothing to him. In fact, he didn't even know her name. She shook her head. No, she thought. Her lie detector hadn't steered her wrong before. He wouldn't kill her and she was positive about that.

"How did you find me anyway?" she huffed, in spite of herself.

She rolled her eyes at the devilish smirk that lighted up his features. Of all the things she could have said and done, that changed his mood.

"Pirate, lass," he told her with that annoyingly charming smirk of his, as if that made all the difference in the world.

"Yeah. Funny thing about pirates, they aren't as clever as they think they are," she shot back and the smile fell from his face.

"I found you. Surely finding the famous _Emma Swan_ must count for something," he said, emphasizing her name with a pop.

Emma froze. She hadn't told him her name last night, which meant he must have asked around town. Only a few people knew her here though, as she hadn't been in town for very long. Only one man in particular, however, seemed to stand out to her.

"Let me guess. An old guy with a funny cloak told you where I was?"

Now that seemed to impress him. "Yes, actually." Then with a shrug, "Didn't even need to bribe him."

She owed that elderly man nothing. She had robbed for him and he repaid her by betraying her to the very man he had asked her to steal from. It didn't make any sense. She wanted to know why he had gone through so much trouble. For what, a good laugh? She felt the tingle at her fingertips again, jolting her from her thoughts. She clenched her fists and attempted to push her magic back down beneath the surface.

The last thing she needed was for Captain Hook to see her little magic display.

Hook held out his hand again, clearly growing impatient with her. "Now. My property please. I would really rather not have to kill or torture you to get it back, but you see, I'm on a rather tight schedule and you've already delayed me enough as it is."

"You're leaving?" she asked, unable to help the hope filling her voice.

"Yes. Now my ring."

She jumped on her passing thought before she could second-guess herself. "I request passage on your ship." He blinked at her and then barked out a laugh. She frowned at him. "I'm serious," she said. "Take me to…wherever it is you're going and then—and only then—will I return your ring to you. That is my deal."

"Yeah," Hook drawled out. "No can do."

She crossed her arms stubbornly across her chest. "Fine. Then you're not getting your ring back."

He ran his hand through his hair, frustrated with her. "You do remember the part about me _killing_ you, right?"

Emma shrugged. "I'm the only one who knows where it is." She watched his eyes traveling not so subtly up and down her body. When he smirked, she knew he was picturing her naked. She huffed at him. He was infuriating, honestly. "You won't find it. I can promise you that."

He took a step closer to her until their toes were practically touching. She refused to take a step back from him, refused to let him get any reaction out of her.

"Then you should know that my crew consists entirely of men."

She sighed inwardly. She may have been good at detecting a lie but she was terrible at giving them, and she didn't know how to explain to him that he could strip her naked and still wouldn't find his ring because of, well, magic.

"I can take care of myself."

Typically, when she found transport to and from towns by ship, it was usually full of men. This wasn't her first rendezvous and it certainly wouldn't be the last. She could set a protection spell to hide herself if she needed, not that it would come to that. Though, she had never traveled with pirates before. That would certainly be a first.

Her lie detector blared inside her head all the same again. He wouldn't let his crew touch her.

"Look. This way we both get what we want. You get your ring back. I can get out of this godforsaken town." She was rambling now and just kept going and going, waiting for him to cut her off. "It can't be that long right? Give or take a couple days. Right…?"

Silence hung between them for a moment, as he thought about her offer. "Fine," he told her with a huff. "But Swan, you should know that I don't take betrayal lightly. If you don't have my ring I will not hesitate to throw you overboard." As he told her this, he tucked a piece of her hair behind her ear, something that would have been incredibly endearing if he hadn't just threatened to drown her.

The gesture made her want to smack him. She plastered on a smile instead. Then he blinked and the darkness quickly disappeared from his eyes. She caught the blue seeping back into them and for a brief moment, she thought she caught a glimpse of the man she had met last night again.

"We leave at dusk," he told her, turning promptly on his heel, away from her.

"Hey!" she called after him. "Aren't you going to tell me your name? Your _real_ name."

"Hook will do just fine," he called out over his shoulder, leaving her no other choice than to follow him.


	4. Chapter 4

Killian let out a very frustrated sigh. The Swan girl had certainly thrown him for a loop. He wasn't entirely sure why he had agreed to let her accompany him to Nottingham, only knowing that he needed his ring back and knowing that he didn't particularly want to kill her either to get it back. Gods, he had been so angry. His brother's voice kept whispering in his ear, doing everything to keep the darkness and wrath at bay.

It had worked.

Barely.

He was fairly certain this Emma Swan was hiding his ring somewhere under all those skirts of hers, which now that he got a better look at her, seemed to him as if someone else had dressed her. The bar wench outfit didn't suit her. He smirked, thinking of perhaps an easier and more enjoyable way of getting his ring back.

Their night together was slowly coming back to him. He could still remember the way he had her moaning and withering around him. Ten minutes—no five—and he could have her on her back, begging for more.

He mentally kicked himself at the thought.

He could just scare her into giving him his goddamn ring back. That was what he would have done if it had been anyone else. Something held him back and it wasn't entirely Liam's nuisance voice whispering in his ear either. Problem was, this Emma Swan didn't seem terrified of him at all. In fact, she seemed to have the profound ability to see right through him.

But he had seen through her as well and it was rather like looking into a mirror.

When she asked him to take her to the next town over, he'd seen the plea in the green specks of her irises. She was running from something, or perhaps someone. He didn't know what to make of the Swan girl because she clearly had no fear when it came to sticking up for herself. He wondered who could have—no. He abruptly stopped the thought before it could grow into something more. He didn't care who Emma Swan was or where she came from. She had done nothing to earn his trust. He did not care for her.

_Don't get attached._

Hook stopped abruptly and she barreled straight into him, sending him back a step. He steadied her with his hand and she shot him a piercing look.

"And behold," he said. "The Jolly Roger…I'd give you a tour, but I'm fairly certain you already know your way around."

She shot him another look, one that amused him.

"I think I can find my way around just fine, thanks."

Her anger didn't last though. Something about her shifting eyes and the way she kept glancing over her shoulder every now and then caught his attention. He realized she was scared but not of him and that intrigued him probably much more than it should have.

"You know what I think?" he said before he could stop himself.

He needed to know if he was right about her. He was good at reading people, and right now, he was getting the strangest sense that they had more in common than either of them knew.

"I think you're going to tell me anyway," she huffed.

"I find it curious that you've not asked me about our next port of destination." Her face contorted with an emotion he couldn't quite place. He only caught it because he had looked for it. A few seconds later and she quickly pulled back on her mask, compartmentalizing the way she did best.

Ah. So he had been right about her. She was running from something or someone. Not that he cared. She took his question as something else though.

"That won't work….trying to scare me off this ship."

"I'm trying to do no such thing," he told her truthfully. "You're just something of an open book is all."

"Am I?"

She placed her hands on her hips, now annoyed. He was getting under her skin and something about the blush forming in her cheeks, egged him on.

"Quite. Let's see. You willingly volunteered to take shelter on my ship because whatever you're running from is a far worst fate than living with a bunch of pirates for a few days." He paused for a moment, waiting for that to sink in and for a brief second, he watched her shut down.

"That's not perception," she whispered, though she didn't comment further on that. Then realizing that she had shown him too much, she perked up, a little bit harsher now. "You don't know me."

True. He knew nothing about her and had no plans of getting to know her either, but her pages were open for all of him to see. "I spent years in Neverland. Home of the Lost Boys. They all share the same look in their eyes. The look you get when you've been left alone."

"Yeah. Well, my world ain't Neverland."

Killian shrugged. "An orphan's an orphan."

He would know. He was one too, not that he would share this piece of information with her. He crossed a line, he could tell. He watched her walls build-up absurdly fast around her. Then without further comment, she turned from him and waltzed up the gangplank to the Jolly Roger. He found it ironic that her means to escape him was to run right onboard his ship. She nearly reached the top when she stopped so suddenly, that it was his turn to barrel straight into her. She stumbled back a tad, unable to support his weight.

"It just so happens I am trying to get somewhere," she told him much too confidently, arms crossed over her chest.

His eyebrows shot up in amusement. He couldn't wait to hear this one. "And where might that be, lass?"

"Arendelle."

She told him this with so much confidence and so quickly, he knew she had come up with it in the short walk it took her to cross the gangplank to his ship. He smirked, knowing she probably heard about the town in a storybook or something. It only confirmed his suspicions that she was indeed running from something.

"Alright then. Arendelle it is," he told her without hesitation.

Her face fell, but just like last time, she recovered quickly. Something about knowing that he was right about her yet again had him grinning from ear to ear.

Open book, that one.

"Wait…you'll take me?" she asked him hesitantly with a little bit of surprise. "Isn't it...a long journey from here?"

Killian shrugged. "Give or take. Of course, we'd have to stop here and there to restock the ship, but it's on the way to our final port of destination. I don't see the problem with dropping you off along the way."

He did not intend to take her to Arendelle, nor did he actually suspect she'd stick around long enough to make it there. She would disappear, he knew, the first chance she got. However, he hadn't been lying to her either. Arendelle just so happened to be rather close to the Dark One's castle. There he could finally, finally extract his revenge on the Dark One.

"And just where is your final port of destination?" she asked him, breaking him from his thoughts.

Now it was his turn for his face to fall. She smiled in triumph. Yes. Two could play this game. Like her, he had his secrets too, ones he certainly wasn't going to reveal, especially to some girl he hardly even knew and one he had no plans of getting to know for that matter. Still, he couldn't help the pride swelling up inside his chest as he thought of driving his sword through the Dark One's heart. It wasn't a secret that he wanted to kill the crocodile.

"Why to seek my revenge on the man who took my hand. Rumpelstiltskin."

He watched her tense at the name. The fear that flickered across her eyes didn't go unnoticed by him. Interesting. So she knew the crocodile after all. Before she could further question him on it, he added, "We leave at dusk," he told her, his voice leaving no room for questioning.

Their conversation was done here.

-x-

Stupid. So incredibly stupid.

Arendelle.

Of all the damn places she could have said, she just had to say Arendelle. Arendelle was the last place she wanted to set foot in, right behind the Evil Queen's castle. On the other hand, Arendelle sat outside the Enchanted Forest, which did make it an appealing prospect. However, she kept hearing Ingrid's voice in her ear.

_Tell them who you are and they'll take you in. They will help you_

Emma bit her lip. She didn't want help, especially from Ingrid's family. She supposed she didn't have to seek them out if she didn't want to. After all, she didn't even know what they looked like and she highly doubted they even knew she existed.

Then to top it all off, Hook wished to kill Rumpelstiltskin. She knew the name well, and like everyone did, shuttered when she heard it. Some people claimed Rumpelstiltskin was no more than a story told to scare children, but Emma knew the truth, for she'd seen him a thousand times in her dreams.

However, this was all beside the point because she extremely doubted that Hook planned to take her to Arendelle anyway. She had seen his smug smirk and the glint in those blue eyes of his. He just wanted to pull a reaction out of her, which he frustratingly managed to do. He knew she was running from something and she hated to know that he could read her so easily.

_An orphan._

One look at her and he had her all figured out. Was it that obvious that she was a loner? That she didn't have a place to call home? She had tried to blend into the world more times than she could count. It never worked out because she kept disappointing everyone around her.

Emma sighed. She couldn't think about any of that now. She'd wouldn't step foot anywhere near that beast or near Arendelle. No. She'd be long gone the moment she stepped foot at the next port. Whatever that was, not that it particularly mattered. She was good at traveling without a plan, choosing instead to follow wherever the wind blew her…just as long as the wind didn't blow too close to Regina's castle.

Emma chose to give herself her own tour of the ship. She'd only actually seen Hook's cabin, after all. The pirates paid her little attention as she roamed the different levels. They probably thought she was some wench, looking for her lover.

Emma rolled her eyes. Men. Honestly.

She choose to make herself at home in the cargo hold, figuring that the rest of the crew slept in the hammocks and cots on the floor above this one. There was no way in Hell she was sleeping near any of them. She found a spot between barrels of rum, figuring no one would bother her down here.

She quickly changed into much more comfortable attire: pants, a light and loose fitting blouse with a dark blue vest overtop. Skirts and dresses didn't suit her. They never had and she doubted they ever would.

Now. Last but not least…

The ring weighed heavily in the palm of her hand. She wondered whom it belonged to for him to show so much emotion over something so small. But she knew that sometimes the most meaningful things in life came in the smallest of packages—Like her swan necklace her father had given to her on her fifth birthday or the blue shawl Ingrid had gotten her all those years ago. If she'd lost either of those things…well, she was fairly certain she'd act similarly to the way Hook had.

She'd give it back to him tomorrow once they were out to sea, she decided. Then with a sigh, Emma secured Hook's ring under her blouse and made her way back to the others.

Honestly, it was astonishing sometimes she made it as far in life as she did. The moment she stepped foot onto deck, she barreled straight into someone.

"Woah! Sorry about that. Didn't see you."

Emma blinked.

The pirate before her was younger than the others, perhaps only a year or two older than herself. In fact, looking at him now, he didn't look much like a pirate at all. He was too neat around the edges, too freshly shaven and proper. As she looked at him long and hard, that strange feeling of recognition tugged at that back of her mind. It was his eyes, she decided after a moment, and gods above did they remind her of someone…someone she couldn't quite place.

"And you are…?" the man asked.

Emma mentally kicked herself, feeling like an idiot because she hadn't said anything. She took his hand and gave him a soft smile.

"Emma," she told him. "Emma Swan."

The man paused, visibly tensing. Then very slowly, he looked her up and down. He was staring at her, she realized, in a very similar manner she had been staring at him.

"Emma," he said eventually, testing out her name. "After the Lost Princess?"

Of course, this wasn't the first time someone had asked her this and wouldn't be the last. There were times she really regretted not haven chose a different first name. But she didn't want to lose herself completely and since her birth, thousands of families had named their daughters after her.

_Hope._

Emma scoffed. There was no such thing as hope, not truly. Hope was something parents told their children to trick them into believing the world was a better place than it actually was.

"Something like that," she told him, recovering quickly. "Lost you say? I thought the princess was dead."

"There are rumors here and there."

"Rumors," she agreed. Then she gave him a soft smile when she caught him staring again.

The man laughed. "Apologizes. It's just… you remind me of someone is all." The man got this far away look in his eye then, a look Emma knew all too well. The man shook himself out of it. "Apologizes. August," he said, holding out his hand. "August Booth."

Emma took it. "So do you know exactly what the next port of destination is?"

Something flashed across August's eyes, amusement perhaps. "Ah. You're the Captain's friend."

Emma openly rolled her eyes. "We are not friends."

August kept on smiling at her and it unnerved her. "Nottingham," he told her after a moment. "It should only take a couple days. I heard you'll be accompanying us for a while. Arendelle is quite far."

Emma balked at him. She'd been away for no more than twenty minutes and Hook had already managed to tell his whole crew about her. Emma let out a bitter laugh. "Yeah. We'll see about that."

"Don't let us fool you. We look worse for wear than we actually are...you just have to look underneath the surface."

August took a step closer to her and then pointed to a large man at the far end of the ship. The man easily stood over six foot tall and was perhaps the largest man Emma had ever seen. "That one is Bloody Bill. Bill for short, though his biggest dream. Concert pianist." August then pointed to another man, one with a crooked nose and tons of lumps and bruises. "And that one over there," August continued on, "wants to settle down with a special little lady and make a bunch of pirates babes."

A smile tugged at the corners of Emma's lips. August went about, pointing to each member of the crew, spilling their secrets and making them far less terrifying than they actually seemed. Tor apparently like flowers, while a pirate named Attila loved to bake. Then there were the twins, Bruiser and Killer who knew how to sew.

"Well, aren't you the creative bunch," she told him when he finished.

"We aren't all bad," August told her softly. "Just a different way of looking at things is all."

"August!" a small voice shouted from behind.

Emma turned at the sound of the voice, not expecting to hear the sound of a child.

"Ah!" August said brightly. "And this little one here is the youngest and newest member of our crew."

The child, no more than nine, beamed up at her. "Oliver," he told her proudly in a thick accent she did not recognize. "Oliver Twist."

August clasped a hand on the lad's shoulder. "Picked this one up not too long ago. In Neverland."

The child seemed incredibly proud by this fact and he nodded along with August. "The Captain took me in when I asked! I helped them in Neverland you see."

"Neverland…I thought that was just…"she trailed off

August's eyebrows shot up. "A story? Yeah me too. Wretched place. Beautiful but deadly."

Emma nodded, though not entirely comprehending it. As a child, she loved the stories of Peter Pan and the magical land that he whisked orphans off to. She had always wished that the lost boy would fly through her window and take her away from all the horrors of the world. Only when she grew up did she accept that Neverland and Peter Pan were nothing more than a fairytale. Oh how wrong she had been.

August bent down and instructed Oliver to go help a pirate named Doyle. The child ran off, eager to help in any way he could.

"He's a good kid," August told her.

A loud thud interrupted them, making her jump. She glanced down at a bucket, now placed at her feet. She glanced back up at the culprit who had put it there. It didn't surprise her in the slightest to find Hook, not so subtly eyeing her up and down

"I see you change rather nicely," Hook told her. When he caught her gaping at the bucket, his smirk only grew. "What? You didn't think I'd let you ride for free now did you?"

His eyes were smiling at her, but his smirk said it all. Gods, he just loved getting a reaction out of her, didn't he? She wanted to know why he was so hell bent on wanting her off the ship. Then again, she had taken his ring. He wouldn't get a reaction out of her though. Emma grabbed the mop from his hands. She'd done worse jobs than mop the deck for a ticket out of town.

"And when I'm finished?" Emma asked, matching his confidence in her tone.

Hook's eyebrows shot up. "Come find me." Then he walked away, leaving her alone with August once more.

"Is he always like that?" Emma huffed, watching him leave.

"Yup," August told her.

Emma sighed. This was going to be a long couple of days.

-x-

Emma didn't know why she felt like she had something to prove. She'd been on ships before, after all, and she honestly didn't care what the pirates thought of her. But when she took that mop from Hook, something washed over her, something she couldn't explain. So she scrubbed the deck hard and well, until it was nearly spotless. When she was done with that, she moved right onto her next task. It was stupid honestly, but she strangely wanted to prove to them that she was not some precious damsel in distress.

Of course there were snickers here and there at first, but for the most part, the pirates were surprisingly friendly and kind to her. They taught her the different ranks of the ship and the different chores they needed to complete in order for them to set sail. They were incredibly patient with her and she found herself wondering if she could handle a journey to Arendelle with a ship full of pirates after all.

Just as Hook said, they set sail at dusk. Relief immediately washed over her when the Jolly Roger pulled away from the docks. She hoped that she'd never see that elderly man again.

Later that evening, Emma made her way to the front of the ship and took a seat on an overturned barrel. The majority of the crew had turned below deck already. Despite her exhaustion, she wasn't quite ready to turn in yet, knowing nightmares would plague her the moment she shut her eyes. The sun had long since set, as the Jolly Roger sailed out into the unknown. It was one of those perfect warm nights with clear skies and the occasional cool breeze. The moon sat high in the sky now, surrounded by tiny dots of pure white. The ocean seemed to stretch out for miles and miles before them, and as Port Captiva became more of a distant dot behind them, she found herself beginning to feel incredibly small.

The world was terrifyingly large at times.

"Your hand…it's cut. Let me help you."

Emma glanced over her shoulder, surprised to find Hook standing behind her and staring at her with a look of concern, one she couldn't exactly place. She thought he had gone to bed along with everyone else. She glanced back down at her hand and clamped it shut in an attempt to hide the red and raw flesh from him. She had cut it earlier moving a barrel and brushed it off at the time. However, now that the work was all said and done, it was frustratingly painful at times.

"Oh, no. It's fine…" she trailed off.

She had worse before. Besides, nothing a little magic couldn't fix. Despite her protest, Hook took a seat next to her all the same, much closer than necessary really. She attempted to back away, but he caught her hand with his hook and pulled her right back to him.

"No it's not," he argued, not taking his eyes off her.

Emma could only stare as she watched him uncork the flask with his mouth. "So now you're going to be a gentleman?" she asked him, unsure of what else to say, though knowing she had to say something to ease the tension between them. It was suffocating.

He cocked his head to the side, smirking. "I'm always a gentleman."

He poured the contents of his flask over her hand and she let out an involuntary and uncharacteristic yelp. "What the hell is that?" Emma screeched, attempting to pull her hand away again, but he just held on a little tighter.

"It's rum. Bloody waste of it too," he muttered.

Hook took the scarf around his neck and began to wrap it around her hand, surprisingly gentle. Then his blue eyes flashed to hers and he tied the scarf off with his mouth. Emma swallowed hard, transfixed on him, unable to pull away.

Gods above this was a terrible idea. She shouldn't have sought out passage on his ship. When they first set sail, those few days felt small. Now, with his intense eyes and looks of concern and unnerving ability to see right through her, those several days seemed incredibly far away.

_Don't get attached._

She couldn't remember the last time she truly had an honest conversation with someone. She wasn't exactly the most trusting of people after all. Hook, however, had gotten right under her skin in more ways than she could count and she had just met the guy. Hell, she hardly even knew him. Correction, she thought. She didn't know him, nor did she plan on getting to know him. She would keep to herself the next several days and then she'd be off the moment they docked.

"You're a tough lass," he told her, breaking her thoughts. "You'd make one hell of a pirate."

Emma glanced away. He finally let go of her wrist, but not before she caught the face of a woman etched onto his arm.

"Who's Milah? On the tattoo."

The words were out before she could stop herself. She watched him tense up and then shut right back down. He shifted slightly away from her before pulling his sleeve down to cover the tattoo. Perhaps she wasn't the only open book.

"Someone from long ago," he told her quickly and quietly.

"Where is she?" she asked, though she already knew the answer.

"She's gone."

"Rumpelstiltskin," she mumbled, when it clicked. "He took more than your hand from you, didn't he? That's why you want to kill him."

"You're quite perceptive, aren't you?" He was looking at her now with an intensity she couldn't quite place. "Have you ever been in love?" he asked her after a moment.

Emma thought about her parents and her baby brother—the family she'd never see again. Nearly twenty years had passed since she last saw them and not a day went by that she didn't think about them. Her brother would have been about twenty-three now and her heart ached at the life he could have had. If she hadn't left him there to die.

Emma closed her eyes, desperate to push back Leo's childish face. But if it wasn't Leo who haunted her thoughts it was always someone else she loved, like Ingrid or even Robin and Roland. They had all taken her in and had all given her a home when she had never asked for one. Her heart pinched inside her chest at the memory of them.

Love, Emma realized, came in many shapes and forms.

"Maybe I was once," she told him softly. Then sensing the conversation drifting towards a topic she didn't want to share, she changed the subject entirely. "So Neverland, huh?" she questioned.

Hook blinked and then let out a laugh, one of relief. Almost immediately, the tension between them evaporated.

"August said it was a wretched place," Emma continued on, curious about what the pirate had told her earlier.

"I don't know what stories you've heard, but I can assure you they are all lies. Neverland is not a fairytale It's a nightmare…I will also add, that in Neverland I am, nor was I ever the villain."

He had moved back in closer to her and she could feel the warmth radiating off his body. For a moment, she could only think of the other night with his lips hot on her skin, stirring up emotions she didn't want to acknowledge or thought she was even capable of feeling again.

"Is that so?" she asked, even though she could see he was telling her the truth. Still, she had to stop herself from laughing at the thought of him being so scared of a child.

"Pan is the most treacherous villain I have ever faced. Tell me something. These stories, what am I like?"

Emma shrugged. "You weren't in them."

It was true. The stories she'd heard more aligned with Peter Pan and the Lost Boys. They fought with pirates, yes, but the stories weren't particularly about the infamous Captain Hook, rather they were about acceptance and finding a place to belong in the world. Of course, she had heard stories about him, though none of them were exactly pleasant. He certainly had a reputation, she'd give him that, and he was currently—and thankfully—failing to meet all of her preconceived notions about him.

"Tell me something," she asked, feeling bolder now. "Exactly how old are you?"

He barked out a laugh at that. "Swan, a man can't reveal all his secrets, now can he?" Then softer and with more sincerity, he whispered, "Time moves differently in Neverland."

She got the feeling that Neverland wasn't the place she'd always dreamt of as a child, which hurt a lot more than it probably should have. Even now, all grown up, a part of her wanted to believe that there was a place out there for children who didn't exactly fit in with the rest of the world.

"Why didn't you leave then? If it was so miserable there."

"Easier said than done. I eventually managed to acquire a magic bean to leave that wretched place."

He told her this like it was the easiest thing in the world to have come across. She perked up. A magic bean could solve a lot of her problems. It could take her to a land without magic where she wouldn't have to worry about evil queens, saviors or beasts for starters.

"Those aren't easy to come by," she stated, hoping she didn't sound too desperate.

"They aren't," Hook agreed and she knew he wasn't planning on telling her on how he managed to come across one either. "I used the last one to get back here."

Emma's spirits deflated nearly as quickly as they had filled with hope. When she saw Hook waiting for an explanation from her, she sighed. "I've been trying to amass enough fortune to escape to another realm for forever now. Somewhere isolated." She told him this almost in a daze. She may have been there physically, but mentally she was far, far away.

"Sounds lonely."

She shrugged. It was better that way. "Every time I make enough money, something always goes wrong. I'm terribly unlucky in that regards."

"You and I, we understand each other," he told her. "Look out for yourself and you'll never get hurt, right?"

"Worked quite well for me," she agreed with him.

"Touché." Hook held his flask up and brought it to his lips. He then handed it to her, gesturing for her to take it. She did and swallowed the little rum that was left.

A part of her wanted to argue with him. They weren't alike, not all. His crew was extremely loyal to him. She somehow suspected that Hook would do anything for them in return. He had a family here, he just didn't even know it.

His ring seemed to weigh heavily in her pocket then. She had planned to give it to him when they were closer to port, but it somehow felt wrong keeping it when it mattered so much to him. She fished it out of her pocket.

"I believe this belongs to you."

She placed the ring in his hand and jumped to her feet. She didn't want to see his reaction, nor did she need to hear his thanks. Not that she would get it. She had stolen it from him after all. She headed towards the steps quickly, refusing to look back, but his voice stopped her in her tracks all the same.

"Swan," he called for her and she turned, because of course she turned.

He was looking at her with those intense eyes of his again. For a brief moment, she thought about walking back to him. She couldn't deny that a part of her enjoyed his company. She tried to think about the fact that he didn't show this side of himself too often. Her greens eyes met his. She felt her stomach flip and if she could have, she would have smacked herself.

_Don't get attached._

"Killian," he choked out, his voice wavering just a tad, as if he didn't give it out very often. "My name….is Killian Jones."

Emma nodded with a soft smile. "Goodnight, Killian."

-x-

Stupid. So incredibly stupid.

He wasn't sure why he had given her his name. He owed her absolutely nothing. She'd given him his ring back of course, but she had stolen it from him in the first place. When she jumped up and left so abruptly, he couldn't deny the pull on his heart. He had wanted her to stay, he realized, almost painstakingly so. Her absence hung heavily around him. His ring should have brought him joy and comfort, however it brought no such thing. He was happy to have it back, sure, he just hadn't expected the feeling of emptiness to come along with it.

_Numb. Tired. Raw._

Despite his exhaustion, Killian deliberately chose to ignore it and decided to stay above ship. He kept Smee and Doyle company for awhile. Finally, when he couldn't keep his eyes open any longer, he found his way to his cabin. The moment he stepped foot inside, guilt hit him like a cannon ball. A part of him had desperately wanted to ask her where she was staying. The thought of her sleeping anywhere near the others made his stomach turn. Perhaps she'd found somewhere else to sleep—he hoped. There were plenty of nooks and crannies onboard. Then he thought of how terribly cold those nooks and crannies might be…

Don't get attached.

He shook the thought from his head. It was why he had forced himself not to ask her.

_Don't get attached._

Tomorrow, he decided. He'd asked her where she was sleeping.

No.

Because then he'd offer her his cabin and that was an incredibly stupid idea.

_Don't get attached._

Killian tossed and turned, knowing sleep would not come easily to him that night. His thoughts drifted to Emma Swan again because he damn well couldn't get her out of his head. It was as if she had planted a seed there. He couldn't help but wonder how things would have played out if she had stayed with him that night at the tavern. For a moment, he was kissing her again and the room faded away. It was just him and her and Gods above, he wished that she had stayed that night. He felt his southern areas twitch as his thoughts drifted into dangerous territory.

He wouldn't offer his cabin to her, he decided. He changed his mind. He knew if he couldn't sleep without her there, he certainly wasn't going to be able to sleep with her there either. He paused at the thought. A woman had not simply slept in his bed since Milah.

Milah.

Neverland had damaged his sense of time. It was difficult to say how many years it had been since her passing. Decades? Perhaps even a century. He could remember everything about her. Her smile. Her laugh. The way her eyes fluttered when she was flustered. Milah had been his everything. Right after her passing, the only thing that kept him going was his vengeance against the Dark One.

Then on the other hand, there was Liam. When Liam passed, Killian had turned his grief into wrath, betraying the king and fleeing from his problems. When the pain got too much, he turned it into something else. Wrath. Vengeance. It was easier that way because sorrow had a funny way of killing you slowly.

_She's pretty._

Killian opened his eyes and shot his brother's ghost a piercing look. Even dead, Liam still found a way to get under his skin.

"No. Emma Swan is a distraction. Nothing more," he told the empty compartment around him.

_Whatever you say, little brother._

Killian threw his pillow across the room and Liam's mirage vanished as quickly as it came. Then running his hand through his hair, he let out a deep sigh. He understood Emma in many ways and that terrified him. She both intrigued him and frightened him, bringing up feelings he hadn't felt in a very, very long time—ones he honestly didn't think he was even capable of feeling again. He couldn't deny the desire Emma Swan held over him.

Killian shook his head and plopped back down in his bed, starring up at the ceiling, willing a sleep that would never come.

No, he decided.

This was all lust. Nothing more and nothing less.

Lust.

He closed his eyes and only saw Emma Swan with her blonde hair and striking green eyes. Killian's eyes snapped back open.

Gods above, she was going to be his undoing. He was sure of it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: In case you're wondering why August and Emma didn't recognize each other, remember it has been 20 years! This happened to me actually. My best friend from my first grade class ended up moving. About 8 years later, she ended up sitting next to me in another class. We didn't recognize each other until a couple months into the school year! Crazy right?


	5. Chapter 5

While sunny and beautiful, the wind remained rather nonexistent. Their seemly short journey seemed as if it would drag out forever. The next couple of days had come and gone and by the sixth day, Emma's legs had grown restless, not to mention, the makeshift bed below deck did not entirely fulfill a pleasant night's rest. Then there were the nightmares, which only grew worse with each passing day. Each morning without fail, she'd awake with a scream on her lips and the scar on her wrist throbbing as if someone had burnt her.

Like today.

Emma sat upright. She learned a long time ago to never cry out, that absolute silence was only a myth. There was always something there, something lurking in the shadows. She glanced down at her scar, which was redder and angrier than she had ever seen it before. It took her several moments to realize that she was exactly where she was supposed to be—on the Jolly Roger. With Hook, who was taking her to the next town.

Emma brought her hand up to her chest, as if to keep it anchored inside. Typically, she dreamt of the night Regina stormed her castle. Lately though, she'd been dreaming of…well, she wasn't entirely sure what she was dreaming of lately.

In her dreams, she got an entirely different point of view, as if she was seeing everything through the eyes of someone else. She had dreamt of an elderly couple on their knees, begging for mercy. She could feel the couple's fear. It radiated off them with every shaky breath. In what should have terrified her, only filled her with excitement. She fed off their fear and without a second thought, she drew the fire from her hand and shot it towards the couple—

—then she woke.

It wasn't always the couple. Sometimes she dreamt of dark knights. Sometimes children. None of them she recognized. There was always death. Always fear. It stayed with her when she woke and she carried their cries with her the rest of the day. She'd convinced herself they were just dreams.

That was it.

Nothing more.

Emma made her way above deck just as the sun broke over the horizon. A light cool breeze played with the curl of her hair and she pulled the blue shawl Ingrid had given her closer around herself. The ocean went on for miles and miles, seemingly without end. It was hard to believe that there was anything out there at all.

"You're up early."

Emma gave August a soft smile. "Yeah. Couldn't sleep."

"You do realize there is an extra hammock next to mine? You don't need to sleep down there. I promise we won't bite."

"Thank you," she told him honestly. "I'm fine."

She didn't need the others to see her tossing and turning all night. Her nightmares were her own problem and nobody else's. She turned back to him and caught him staring at her again. She arched her eyebrow at him and August blinked back to reality.

"Sorry. You just _really_ remind me of somebody I use to know."

Emma's smile fell and she glanced back out over the horizon. "I seem to have that effect on people."

August shrugged. "Doesn't surprise me." Afraid that he had said the wrong thing, August stumbled over his words, his ears turning bright red. "I don't mean that you're ordinary…"

"I'm fairly ordinary," she assured him.

He shook his head. "No. It's not that. You have a certain aura about you..."

"Aura?"

"Yeah. Hope."

Emma swallowed hard. She caught the image of the beast howling from her dreams. _On her…twenty-eighth …birthday the child will return. The child will find you and the final battle will begin!_

She pushed the nightmare to the back of her mind. She was nobody's damn savior.

"Hope?" she whispered, hardly bringing the word to life.

August did not seem to catch her discomfort. "Yeah. People trust you…and trust me, I've been here for a few years now and the crew hasn't taken to anyone nearly as fast as they have taken to you. I think you even have Oliver beat."

She changed the subject after that. August hardly seemed to mind. He was alarmingly easy to talk to, like an old friend she had known for years. They talked well into the morning and the entire time, she couldn't help but feel as if someone was watching her. Only when Doyle called August over to check out the sails, did she finally turn around to face her culprit.

It shouldn't have surprised her, honestly. It really shouldn't have.

She caught the flash of Killian's blue eyes, which may as well been drilling holes into her soul. She turned away first.

_Don't get attached._

-x-

Killian certainly had no issues with _staring_ at her; however, he did seem to have issues with actually talking to her. Throughout the day, she kept catching him in the act. Staring. Worst part, he didn't even try to hide it. Because she was a coward, she could never bring herself to go over and talk to him.

Only later in the evening, when her stomach growled angrily at her, did she let herself escape to the galley of the ship in search of food. As it so happened, this was exactly where she found him. Hook sat at the head of the table with August and Doyle at his side, followed by Oliver. They had a pile of coins and other items sprawled out over the table in front of them. Hook laid down five cards—a flush. The others groaned around him as he bore a wide smile.

"Care to join us, Swan?" Hook asked, glancing up to stare at her once more.

Emma nodded, pushing her hair behind her ears. She took the remaining seat next to Oliver, which just so happened to be directly across from Hook. She was actually fairly good at poker, not great, but she could hold her own. Her ability to detect when someone was lying proved rather useful in a game like five card draw. She'd earned money sometimes this way, using the fact that she was a woman to her advantage. Men, for whatever reason, never suspected that a woman would possibly know how to play a small game of poker. But unlike most princesses, she'd never did get the chance to finish finishing school.

"What are we playing?" she questioned, though she already knew the answer.

August swiped up the deck of cards, shuffled them and began to pass out the cards. "Five card draw. Do you know the basic rules of poker?" August asked her and she nodded. She couldn't act completely naïve, knowing they'd catch on to her eventually.

"First we put an ante bet down." August threw a small coin into the middle of the pot. The others followed and she matched their bet. "We each get five cards. You can decide to either bet, check or forfeit. You can only check if nobody else has bet."

As August spoke, she could feel Hook studying her. Staring. She could practical hear him thinking, his thoughts were so loud. She refused to meet his gaze though, knowing he'd catch her trying to hustle them. She purposely kept her gaze locked on the cards. For the first round, they all chose to check, deciding on a practice round for her sake.

She smirked.

"Now that the bet has been established we can exchange one to three cards from your hand and you'll get new cards from the deck."

Emma exchanged two cards, earning herself three nines. Three of kind. Not awful, considering that Doyle and Hook had already folded, leaving just her, Oliver and August. She would have folded too, suspecting that Oliver had a particularly good hand. His smile was as wide as a child on his birthday, but she was hustling them, so she stayed in the game. They all placed their bet again, another low round because this was 'practice.'

"Now we show our cards."

August also had three of a kind, though his Queens easily beat her nines. Oliver won, taking home the small pot of gold with a flush. His smile widened considerably.

"Ready for a real round?" August asked her.

"You'll get the hang of it," Oliver told her cheerfully. "It's real easy."

"Don't let her fool you, lad," came Hook's voice from across the table.

Her eyes snapped up to his and she gave him a knowing smirk. It was Hook's turn to shuffle the cards. She was impressed at his ability to shuffle the cards with one hand. He passed them out, again not taking his eyes off her.

He dealt her four spades and a diamond, which Emma chose to replace. Hook passed her another card. Her heart flipped, seeing another spade. Doyle tossed in his bet, which she matched. As they made their bets, Emma studied them closely. Oliver didn't have anything, she was pretty sure and neither did August or Doyle.

She could see it in their eyes.

Lies.

Then it came to Hook, who upped the bet. Emma's eyes narrowed, trying to figure him out. Doyle folded, which left it to her. "I'll match," she told him confidently, throwing a coin into the center of the pot.

Oliver didn't fold, though he probably should have. August folded as well.

"Ladies first," Hook whispered.

She tossed down her flush. The corners of Hook's lips twitched upwards and she knew she had him beat. Oliver, as she predicted only had two pair. Hook had a straight.

August, Doyle and Oliver stared at her with a mixture of shock and awe, though Hook betrayed no emotion at all.

"You've played before," August accused.

Doyle barked out a laugh, flashing her a toothless smile. "You'd make one hell of a pirate."

"mhmm," was all Hook said.

She lost the next two rounds, though won the fourth and fifth, which just so happened to be a particularly large pot. August won once, as did Doyle. Oliver won another round out of pity, but for the most part, the game kept wavering between her and Hook.

It frustrated her too, so she kept throwing down more coins. A part of her hoped that by dragging out the game, perhaps it'd give her enough time to figure him out. The others she already had pegged.

Here's the thing about lies. People were creatures of habit, especially when it came to lying. It was always the small things, seemingly ordinary things. For instance, they might avert their gaze or might do just the opposite, _too much_ eye content. Others might ramble while others fidgeted, like Oliver was doing right now. However, because he was only nine and still a child, she didn't count him. The others were just as bad. August, for instance kept bringing his hand up to his chin when he didn't have a particularly good hand. Doyle always let out a sigh.

Hook though…well, he was different from the rest and it infuriated her. He hadn't spoken much the whole game. It really shouldn't have bothered her. His ability to hold so much emotion in a single gaze bothered her. It bothered her that her heart fluttered when she caught his intense blue eyes staring at her. It bothered her the way he had managed to get under her skin and she'd only known him for less than a week. It bothered her that he could read her so easily and yet she had trouble reading him.

"Last round?" Doyle said, yawning as he shuffled and passed out the cards.

Right off, Doyle had dealt her three kings. It was her turn to place the first bet so she did, which they all met expect Hook, who upped hers. Emma glared him. He was bluffing, she was almost sure of it. It did the trick though, because the others all folded.

"Looks like it's just you and I, Swan," he asked her.

"Looks like it. Careful, Captain. Sure you can handle it?"

"Are you sure _you_ can handle it?" he shot back, the innuendo not lost on her.

The others kept shooting glances between them. It wasn't lost on her that most of the men on board did not have the privilege to talk to the Captain the way she often did. If Hook refused to break his intense stare then neither would she. She chose to keep the three kings and traded in the other two cards. She nearly laughed in disbelief.

Another king.

Four of kind.

Hook would have had to been dealt quite a remarkable hand to beat that. She placed her bet, much higher than the last time, and August let out a whistle.

"Feeling lucky, Love?"

Love.

He hadn't called her that since their night at the tavern. Hook upped her bet before she could ponder more on that. She met it without hesitation, though slightly regretted it at the same time. There was _a lot_ of money on the table right now, more than she ever had at one given time before. She calculated it, wondering if it was enough money to get her out of the Enchanted Forest. Hell, perhaps even another realm.

If she lost….

"Ladies first," Hook said calmly, his accent seemingly thicker than normal.

Emma tossed down her cards, proudly showing him her four Kings. She waited for an agonizing moment. Then Hook threw down his cards, face down, on top of the deck of cards. August, Doyle and Oliver let out hoots and hollers.

"Congratulations, Swan," Hook told her and stood up.

Emma wanted to protest, feeling betrayed of a victory. He hadn't even shown her his cards. She didn't even have proof that she had actually won. But the others were already up, patting her on the back, heading towards the stairs before she could utter a word. Emma scoped up her winnings, feeling rather deflated. When she was sure they had all gone, she flipped over the five cards Hook had carelessly thrown on the top of the deck.

Two fours.

She bit her lip.

He had absolutely nothing. A part of her wanted to know why he hadn't folded in the first round, though the other part suspected she already knew.

-x-

They reached Nottingham the next afternoon. Eager to get off the ship and stretch out her legs, Emma was the first one off the Jolly Roger. She must have grown accustomed to the sea because the moment her legs touched solid ground, she felt the ground sway beneath her feet and she stumbled backwards. She hit something solid, and arms that did not belong to her wrapped their way around her waist.

"Well it's about bloody time," she heard Killian's voice in her ear. It sent shivers up her spine and when she turned to face him, it didn't surprise her to find a suggestive smirk on his face. She could have gone along with him, knowing that it was all an act. If she really chose to act on his innuendos, she'd have him running for the hills. She didn't particularly want to test that theory at the moment. Instead, Emma peeled his arms away from her and took a step back. She hadn't realized he had followed her off the ship. 

"Just where might you be hurrying off too, love?"

Emma glanced away from him. She wasn't sure exactly, just knowing she wanted off the ship, away from him.

_Don't get attached._

"Nowhere," she lied, because she had been indeed, running away. "Just needed some fresh air."

Killian clearly didn't buy her lie. "You'll still be accompanying us to Arendelle I presume?"

"Of course," she insisted, the lies flowing freely now.

"Marvelous. In that case, you can leave your bag on the ship," he told her. He then took her satchel not so gently by his hook and tossed it over his shoulder. Her bag hit Lester, who had been standing directly behind them. "Take Miss Swan's things back onboard."

"Yes, Captain,"

Emma shot him a piercing look. He was insufferable, honestly. "I may need that," she challenged him.

"Then we can come back and get it, now can't we, love?" he told her with a wink.

Before she could argue, August and a few others walked down the gangplank straight towards them. August placed a hand on both their shoulders, completely oblivious to the tension unfolding between them.

"Who wants a drink?" August asked them much too cheerfully.

Emma felt the pinch in her heart, knowing she wasn't running from just Hook. She would miss all of them: August, Doyle and Oliver especially. Something about the close confinements of a ship brought the crew together in ways she couldn't explain. It had only been a few days, yet it felt so much longer than that, as if she had known them her whole life. For a moment, she let herself dream about the possibility of sailing away with them. It couldn't hurt right?

But she could feel Hook staring at her and her heart tightened inside her chest. She couldn't stay with them.

_Don't get attached._

Tonight, she decided. She'd let herself enjoy their company for one more night. They would all have one too many beers and then she would take off before they even woke in the morning. She would hide her tracks better this time too, so Hook couldn't follow her—not that he would and why would he? She'd already given him his ring back after all.

"I can hear you thinking."

Emma glanced out of the corner of her eye. "No you can't."

"Your thoughts are terribly loud," Hook told her with the wave of his hand.

Despite herself, Emma felt the pull at the corner of her lips. She walked slightly faster so he wouldn't see her smile. "You couldn't possibly know what I'm thinking."

"Open book, love."

She stopped, so fast that Hook didn't have time to stop and he hurdled right into her. She felt his breath on her cheek, but she refused to take a step back. "I think you don't know me nearly as well as you think you do," she challenged.

"I disagree, love."

"Why? Because you guessed I was an orphan?"

Hook shrugged. "Among others things. Your trust issues—"

"I do not have trust—"

"—or your profound ability to run away when there's a chance that maybe, just maybe someone else might actually care about you."

She crossed her arms across her chest. If this was his idea of getting her to trust him, he was failing considerably. She let out a bitter laugh. "And you care?" she challenged him, knowing he only cared about his stupid revenge, though her mind did briefly hinder on the poker game he threw for her.

"Try something new for a change, darling." His eyes flickered with an emotion she couldn't exactly place. "It's called trust."

"You don't know me," she told him meekly because in spite of herself, he had her pegged, dead on.

"Perhaps." He took a step closer than what was probably considered appropriate between two friends talking on the street. "I think you're afraid. Afraid to reveal yourself. You see, Emma. You and I. We understand one another."

A thousands thoughts exploded in her head and yet no words came to her.

A flash of black caught her attention, breaking her thoughts. Just behind Hook, she could make out the black cape of one of Regina's dark knights. Emma paled. Since when did Regina's knights come this far from the castle? Her heartbeat began to quicken. _You've come across them before. This is why you must leave the Enchanted Forest._ Still, the sight of them made her stomach lurch. Her scar on her left wrist began to burn. Emma's hand shot to it and for a moment, she was twenty years in the past and a little boy she once knew as Pinocchio was pulling her down the dark hallway, doing everything in his power to save her life.

Emma let out a sharp breath, jolting back to reality with a blink and a flash of blue.

Killian.

"Emma."

She swallowed hard.

"You alright, love?" Killian questioned her, his blue eyes of his filled with concern.

Emma nodded. "Fine," she told him tightly. "Let's…let's catch up with the others."

Killian glanced over his shoulder to see what had caught her eye, but the knights had already got lost in the crowd. Thankfully, they were heading in the opposite direction as them. When Hook couldn't find what had caught her eye, he nodded, though he very much looked as if he wanted to argue with her.

Before he could, she took the lead, heading straight towards the bar August had just walked into, which was surprisingly busy for the time of day. The crowd looked friendly enough and not a single dark knight in sight. Emma let out a sigh of relief. August waved to them from the back of the room, already having found a long table. She took a seat across from him, while Killian took the seat next to her.

_Emma_

He had said.

_Emma_

Like he cared.

_Emma_

Like he knew her.

He did not know her. He hardly knew anything about her. She envied him for his bravery, to face the man who took his true love from him. Regina had taken everything from her. Her parents, her baby brother, her friend, her castle…and the list went on and on. Regina, a woman she had never even met, destroyed her life in the blink of an eye. Hook had turned his angst into wrath, where she had spent the majority of her life pretending like hers didn't exist. She preferred to believe in prettier wrapped lies. It was better that way.

"Emma?" August's voice brought her back to reality. She wondered how long they'd been trying to get her attention. She couldn't bring herself to look at Hook, knowing he was staring at her with those intense eyes of his again.

"What?" she snapped.

August pointed meekly behind her and Emma glanced up to the waiter who had been trying to take her order.

"What can I get—Emma?"

Emma's head shot up at the all too familiar voice. She glanced up, her mouth falling open. It'd been four years, but Roland didn't look like he had grown a day. He still had the same childish face, curly bright hair and lovable smile.

"Roland?" the word left her mouth before she could stop herself. Then she remembered that _she_ had left _him_. This hardly seemed to matter to him because Roland lifted her off the ground. He spun them in circles before placing her down on her feet.

"Emma!? Is it really you?" he said this, practically laughing with excitement. "Its been what? Four years?"

Emma nodded sheepishly. She didn't know what to tell him. After Ingrid's passing, Roland and Robin had taken her in, and they would have become her family if she would have let them.

"And you?" she asked, barely finding the words.

She wished she could match his excitement, but she only felt guilt. She had met them not too long after her twenty-first birthday. She spent almost three years with them. Roland had even kissed her once, though both of them quickly decided they were just friends. Roland always had it out for this sweet blonde girl who lived in a town close by.

"Good. Good. Wow." Roland exclaimed, running his hands through his hair in disbelief. "Father is not going to believe this. Either is Grace… you remember Grace, right?"

Ah. So it would seem Roland had won the girl's heart after all. "Grace? Doesn't ring a bell." She told him with a smile because literally Roland never shut about her. A blush graced his cheeks.

"We're expecting," Roland told her proudly. "She insists it'll be a boy but I'm convinced it's a girl."

"That's wonderful news, Roland. Congratulations."

"Dad and I opened the tavern not too long after we found out. Apparently mother and he used to own one when I was a baby."

Someone cleared their throat behind her—Hook most likely. Roland glanced between the two of them, and his eyes widened a tad when he saw the pirates sitting behind her. To his credit, he recovered quickly from his shock, though it didn't stop the smile from falling off his face.

"What…have you been up to?" Roland asked her, his eyes boring into her soul.

"They didn't kidnap me, if that's what you're implying," she told him, amused.

She supposed from Roland's point of view, her situation didn't look too promising. In her white blouse, blue vest and tan pants, she stood out like a sore thumb in their sea of black.

Killian stood up them, slightly in front her, hook out. "Captain Jones," he said tightly.

Emma wanted to smack him. Honestly.

"They offered me passage on their ship," Emma continued on, ignoring Hook entirely.

Roland relaxed, though he didn't seem to completely believe her either. "Then the least I can do is bring over a few pints. Anyone who is friend of Emma's is a friend of mine."

Roland held out his hand. Hook glanced at it with much speculation. Then finally, they shook and Emma sighed with relief. Roland left to fetch them their drinks and most likely Robin. She bit her lip, wondering what she would say to the man who could have been her foster father if she would have let him.

"You've been here before then?" Hook not so casually questioned her.

Emma blinked. "No actually. Roland and Robin lived in the woods closer to port Captiva when I met them. I did not know they were here…" she trailed off, not sure how to finish the sentence. If she had known, she never would have come and it was a fact she wasn't willing to admit.

_Don't get attached._

"Well I'll be."

Emma pulled her gaze away from Hook to the all too familiar voice. Robin had aged a few years. The grey in his hair and the lines on his face stood out a little more than the last time she saw him, but for the most part, he really hadn't changed. He embraced her in a hug before she could protest. There was a beat of silence and she desperately felt the need to apologize.

"Robin…I…"

"Emma," Robin told her gently. "It's alright. I'm just glad you're safe… and happy?"

Emma didn't miss the way his eyes flickered to the rugged crew behind her. She couldn't help but smile. "Yes."

"Then that's all that matters, but you should know, you are always welcomed here."

"I…thank you," she settled with.

Roland returned then, expertly balancing several pints of beer on a tray. He brought some for the whole table and when he told the crew that this round was on him, the pirates let out cheers of joy. Hook said nothing. In fact, he hardly seemed to be paying any attention to her at all.

"Roland…you don't have to do this," she told him, as she took the pint from him reluctantly.

Roland placed both hands on his hips, and gave her an amused smug. "If I remember correctly your birthday wasn't too long ago. Right?"

Of all the things for him to remember, Roland would remember her birthday. She immediately felt several pair of eyes on her and felt the rose blossom on her cheeks.

"I…well….yeah," she finished lamely.

"You've had a birthday, Swan?" Hook questioned her with such genuine sincerity that left her speechless.

She nodded.

"Happy birthday."

Then he went back to ignoring her.

He infuriated her, so she spent the majority of the time talking to August and Doyle. Roland came back every now and then to talk to her, but the tavern was much too busy for small talk and a part of her was grateful for that. Small talk would only bring up questions. _Where had she been for the past four years? Did she have a family? Why'd she leave in the first place?_

And the list went on and on, none of which she wanted to explain. However, she had an out now. She didn't have to go back to the Jolly Roger. She could use Roland and Robin as an excuse not to board the Jolly Roger and Hook wouldn't question it. Then in the morning, she'd be off.

_Don't get attached._

"I can hear you thinking again, Swan."

Emma blinked back to reality. In the time she managed to zone out, Hook took August's place beside her. She wondered how long she'd been thinking, as she hadn't even seen August leave. She caught him talking to a beautiful brunette at the bar.

"I don't celebrate birthdays either, Swan," Hook told her.

Emma snorted. "Yeah. Well, aren't you like 300 years old?"

Killian rolled his eyes at that. Then suddenly, he seemed to have found his rings rather interesting. "Would you like to go back to get your stuff?…"

He'd caught her off guard. Eventually, she nodded. "I… you don't need to do that."

Hook shrugged. "I'm tired," he admitted and heaved himself up.

His confession struck a chord with her. In the little time she'd known him, she didn't peg Captain Killian Jones as the most revealing type. After all, it took her a whole day for him to tell her his name. Still, she followed him out the door anyway.

The setting was an all too familiar one. The sun had long since set, now replaced with a moon and a canvas full of stars. Unlike the last time they'd left a tavern together, they were not drunk and neither of them had any intentions of their stroll leading to a nightcap.

They walked mostly in silence. While comforting, Emma could still feel the pull of everything left of unsaid between them.

The tavern was right near the dock and she could make out the Jolly Roger easily among the other ships. She didn't need an escort. She could have made it there and back before he had even finished his beer. Perhaps that was why Killian had slowed to an almost unnatural pace.

"Killian," she began, unsure. She'd known him for a couple days, so this goodbye shouldn't have been that hard. Yet somehow, she still struggled with the words.

"It's alright, Swan," he told her, eyes down casted. "I get it."

"I wanted to go with you," she told him, even though she hadn't planned on it. A part of her wanted to—still did—but she knew it was better this way.

_Don't get attached._

"You don't need to explain yourself, love."

But she did. She really did and the more she tried to think of the right thing to say, the more the words slipped away from her. So they walked the remainder of the way to the ship in silence. Even when she stepped onboard to grab her belongings and back off to where Killian was waiting for her, she remained unsettlingly mute.

"I know you threw the poker game for me," she told him bluntly instead of the thanks she wanted to give him.

He curiously did not turn to meet her gaze. "Perhaps you can start collecting that fortune to travel to that other realm of yours, love."

It was disarmingly, alarming honest and it hit her so hard that she actually took a step back from him. She had expected an innuendo or even a lie, but not the truth and she realized now that this was the exact reason people did not ask questions. Because sometimes it was easier to accept the lie. It was easier to believe that what she felt for him was no more than how she would an acquaintance.

"Consider it a birthday gift."

Her mouth dropped open, yet she could not find the words. And honestly, there was nothing she could say. She was leaving him just like she left everyone else who walked into her life. For whatever reason though, saying goodbye to him was hitting her a lot harder than it should have.

"We leave tomorrow morning," he told her and she nodded.

"Killian…I hope you find what you're looking," she told him eventually.

"And I you." He took a step back then and her heart deflated. "You take care of yourself, Swan."

As he walked away from her, regret suddenly blossomed in the pit of her stomach at the realization that she did not want to part ways with him. Her heart was screaming at her to run back to him and tell him she'd changed her mind, but her feet remained rooted in place. Instead, she watched him head back to the Jolly Roger.

She stayed for a moment and watched the line where the sky met the ocean's edge. The moon and stars reflected beautifully off its surface. She wondered how far it went, how far it'd take her to get to Arendelle. In some strange way, it felt as if the ocean was calling out to her.

One day, she decided, she'd let herself find out. One day, she'd come back to the water and discover just how far that line went. One day, she'd make it to Arendelle and give Ingrid's family the closure they needed. The closure _she_ needed.

Tonight, though, unfortunately was not that day.

-x-

Roland and Robin's gratitude was nearly unbearable. They kept fussing over her, making sure she had everything she needed. She was grateful for their company, but their excitement was just another painful reminder that she had left them four years ago without a word and that she'd be leaving them again come morning.

And they all knew it too.

Before she had slipped off to bed, Roland gave her a new satchel, which Robin filled with fruit and a loaf of bread. Roland's wife, Grace, gave her a few new clothes and a bar of soap. She tried to argue with them but they brought up her birthday again and she awkwardly and reluctantly took it from them.

They offered her a bed too, free of charge, and she'd never been so grateful in her entire life. She figured she'd have trouble fallen asleep, like she did every night, but something about the softness of the mattress and the warmth of the covers must have pleased her exhaustion because she fell asleep nearly the moment her head touched the pillow.

However, sleep did not last long.

It seemed to her, she'd blinked, only to be awaken a moment later with a hand clamped firmly over her mouth. She struggled against her captor, her sense of feeling returning in a rush of bitter agony.

"Emma!" her intruder hissed at her.

She had a terrible sense of déjà vu. "Pinocchio?" Emma mumbled incoherently.

"Emma!" the voice shouted again and she realized that she wasn't back in her castle twenty years ago. She was twenty-eight now and staying at Roland and Robin's cabin.

Which was burning.

She shot up out of bed, her senses jumping into overdrive. Roland was racing throughout her room, throwing her clothes and satchel at her. She hardly hesitated and quickly began to dress herself, knowing something terrible had happened.

She could smell it.

Smoke.

It was suffocating and coming from somewhere down the hall. For one terrible moment, she forgot how to breathe and the panic ripped through her body. _This wasn't happening. Not again. Not again._

She could never stop running from her nightmares it seemed. Her fingers sparked and she clamped them shut, hoping Roland hadn't seen. He must not have, or if he had, he did not comment on it. Instead, he grabbed her wrist and tugged her out of bed.

"Emma!" Roland told her urgently. "You have to leave. The Queen's knights are here."

"What…" she trailed off, finally dawning on her what Roland had just said. She wretched her arm away. "How…you _know?_ How?" she spat out, feeling the knife of betrayal dig deeply into her back.

_He couldn't possibly have known._

No one knew. Everyone thought Emma Princess of the Enchanted Forest had perished in the fire that had taken her family's life. However, when she looked him in the eye, she saw no trace of a lie within his features.

_Roland knew._

"We've always known, Emma."

"How?"

"It doesn't matter. What matters now is that you have to leave. _Now."_

She swallowed the tears, which threatened to fall. A thousand questions exploded in her head.

"Who else knows? Does Hook—"

"EMMA!" Roland shouted, frantic now. "I don't know! What I know is that a fairy named Blue came to my father and I the night before we found you. She told us who you were and that we were to take you in. She told us you were the Savior. That's all I know. I can assure you. Now you have to run."

"I'm…I'm not the Savior."

"Savior or not, you have to leave. Regina knows you're here."

_How?!_ She wanted to scream but failed to find her voice.

Roland tugged her towards the door. He raced down the hallway, away from the shouts and sounds of broken glass. They broke out into the night through a back entrance. In the distance, she could make out the Jolly Roger still docked and her heart clenched at the sight.

"The pirates you came with haven't left yet. If you run, you can still make it. _"_

Emma couldn't think.

She barely processed a thing Roland had just told her. When she glanced around, she had flash of Déjà vu again. Her nightmare was happening all over again. No correction. The nightmare began the moment Regina stormed her castle twenty years ago—she just had yet to wake up from it.

"I don't understand," Emma nearly choked out.

"It doesn't matter!" Roland shouted. "You have to leave."

"But what about you? I can't leave you here like this."

She wouldn't leave him. Not like she had left Pinocchio all those years ago. She wouldn't let Roland die too just because he thought she was something she wasn't. He hadn't asked for his birthright any more than she had. She saw no reason that she should live over him simply because she had been born into royalty and he had not.

And she was nobody's fucking savior.

Roland tossed her that grin of his. "We'll manage just fine." Then he kissed her on the cheek. "Be careful, Emma. We will meet again."

She tried to catch his wrist and pull him back, but he raced off back into the burning inn before she could catch him. And for the second time in her life, she reluctantly turned away from another boy who had saved her life and ran.

-x-

They should have left several hours ago. However, Killian kept stalling, making up excuses before they could leave. August, like always, seemed to see straight through him, though he didn't question him either and Killian was silently grateful for that. As the minutes and hours ticked by, he couldn't deny that he was waiting for _her._ He kept glancing over his shoulder in the direction of town, hoping he'd find her running towards their ship, claiming she changed her mind.

He didn't entirely understand the pull she had over him, only knowing and finally accepting that he, in fact, cared about the mysterious Emma Swan. Though, he brushed it off for nothing more than lust.

It'd been seven days. Seven days of smiles and suggestive flirting. Seven days of conversations about nothing. Seven days of getting under her skin. Seven days of her getting under his skin. Seven nights he'd been unable to sleep because he couldn't stop thinking about that the night at the tavern and what it could have led too. His mind had wandered into sinful thoughts. It was wrong. Terribly wrong.

Because he vowed to never get attached to someone.

Not after Milah.

And yet, every night, Emma Swan plagued his dreams with her beautiful blonde hair and clever wits. Gods, he wanted to kiss her. When they exchanged their goodbyes a few hours ago, he had wanted to kiss her, push her up against the Jolly's mast and make her forget the childish man she was leaving him behind for.

"Captain!"

Killian blinked back to reality. "What," he snapped, unaware that the voice had belonged to the young lad. When he saw Oliver staring up at him with fear, Killian's features relaxed. "What is it Oliver?"

Oliver pointed somewhere behind him, off to the direction of town. Killian followed the lad's hand.

The inn.

It was on fire.

Emma was at the inn.

Killian didn't even think and he would have run straight into that burning house if Smee hadn't blocked his path.

"Captain, we are ready to set sail whenever you give us the go ahead."

Bloody hell.

"Not now Smee! Get out of way or so help me—"

"Hook!"

Killian's head whipped around so fast he nearly gave himself whiplash. When his eyes fell on Emma Swan, running towards him as if her life depended on it, his heart nearly fell from his chest. She barreled straight into him and he caught her against his chest, holding her steady. When he felt her tremble beneath his fingers, he held on just a tad bit tighter.

"What the bloody hell is going on up there?"

"Regina's knights…" Emma gasped out, nearly collapsing onto the deck, out of breath.

Killian swallowed hard. That meant nothing good. If Regina's knights were here, then they were most certainly looking for him. Regina certainly held onto grudges.

"Regina…? What the bloody hell is she doing all the way out here?"

"I…I don't know," she told him with a struggle he didn't attribute entirely to her exhaustion, but the thought passed before he could comment on it. "We have to help them," she cried.

He glanced over his shoulder. The townspeople had all rushed to Robin and Roland's defense. If he squinted, he could just make out the buckets of water they were using to put out the fire. They didn't need their help. The moment Regina's dark knights realized he wasn't there, they'd leave Nottingham and set off to the next town, he was sure.

Hook gestured to the inn. "They'll be just fine, love. See for yourself." She looked very much as if she wanted to argue with him, but he jumped in before she could. "Now Regina and I didn't particularly end on the best terms, so we really need to be on our way. Will you be accompanying us or not?"

He waited for an eternity before he finally got his answer.

"I…yes. I'm staying."

He didn't realize until after she left, that he'd been holding his breath the entire time.


	6. Chapter 6

 

Emma did not sleep that night. Not that she ever got much sleep nowadays, but tonight was different. She kept dreaming about her parents dying in the fire while a high voice cackled with laughter in the background. Then the dreamed would flip to a different setting, one in which her body felt powerful, unstoppable. Like tonight. In her dream, she found herself strutting down a long and dark hallway, her cape flowing freely behind her. She didn't stop until she reached the throne room. At first glance, the room was empty, but then she caught a knight dressed in all black standing at the far end, his head hung low.

_I'm sorry your majesty...she was not there._

In her dream, she pulled back her arm, letting a fireball form in the palm of it. She felt the heat, relished in it before smiling wickedly.

_Please! Have mercy—_

Emma awoke with a scream. She shot straight up before realizing that she was exactly where she was supposed to be. The Jolly Roger creaked and heaved around her as it pushed itself through the ocean's depths. She fell back onto her lumpy makeshift mattress, breathing hard, as if she had just run for miles. She pressed both hands over her chest, trying to recall what the dream had even been about. It had seemed so real. When she closed her eyes, the room lost shape around her and she found herself right back in those dreams. She snapped her eyes quickly back open.

_It was just a dream. It was just a dream. It was just a dream._

She had convinced herself that she'd been dreaming of Regina more recently because she had turned twenty-eight, the same year Rumpelstiltskin predicted she would return to reclaim her rightful place. That was it. Nothing more. Her mind was messing with her…though it didn't exactly explain why her scar hurt each morning she woke.

Emma lay there, letting the world crush her. She was drowning slowly and she felt it with every intake of breath, every beat of her heart. They may have been just dreams, but they lived inside her head and she carried the memories of them with her throughout the day. If she could have, she would have laid there forever and let the darkness consume her. It would have been comforting and welcoming even, easier than facing the day ahead of her.

She had been so preoccupied with Regina actually discovering her whereabouts that she hardly hesitated when Roland told her to run.

_We've always known, Emma._

Roland's words haunted her and had her tossing and turning all night.

Blue.

Roland said that a fairy named Blue came to him and Robin and told them to take her in. Emma had little trouble remembering the fairy with her impeccable amount of stubbornness. Growing up, Blue had always been the strict one, always keeping Emma out of trouble. Emma's heart pace quickened. Blue was alive…or at least she had been nearly seven years ago.

Emma sighed and flopped back down on her makeshift mattress with a heavy sigh. If Roland and Robin knew, then who else did? Did Hook? August? Ingrid had known, just like Robin. They both could have handed her over to the Evil Queen, and yet not one of them did. They kept her secret, protected her. They risked their lives for her without her knowledge.

She suddenly felt as if her whole life had been a lie and the hole in her heart opened a little bit wider. She found herself replaying conversations of the people she'd met over the years, wondering who else knew.

People who all believed she was something she was not.

If she were truly the savior then she would have run back into the burning tavern to help Roland. She would have confronted her deepest fears and faced Regina's knights head on, without fear and no regrets. Hell, if she were the savior, she never would have run twenty years ago when Regina stormed her castle.

August was completely wrong about her. She didn't carry hope with her, only fear and death. People who got too close to her died. She swallowed the lump in her throat, knowing she had put Killian and his crew in terrible danger without their knowledge. If Regina's knights followed them out to sea, then what?

_Now Regina and I didn't particularly end on the best terms_

The possibility of Hook knowing her true identity terrified her, which was exactly why she let a whole day pass before even thinking about confronting him about it. She kept replaying his words over repeatedly in her head, surely she heard him wrong. Hook couldn't know Regina. It was impossible. Improbable. Hook had thought that Regina's knights were looking for _him._ And what if he did know who she was? What if he thought the only way to fix said relationship with Regina was to turn in the missing princess?

For a brief moment, she wondered if she had made a terrible mistake boarding his ship again.

_Get a grip, for Gods sake._

Emma forced herself to make an appearance on deck. She would confront him about it, she decided. If she didn't find out exactly how Hook knew Regina, she feared she'd never get a decent night's rest again.

She just about reached the middle floor when she plowed straight into someone.

_Speaking of the devil._

"We really need to work on that, love," Killian teased her.

"Oh…I was actually looking for you," she told him and immediately regretted it when the smug expression graced his face. She rolled her eyes at him. It occurred to her that he had absolutely no reason to be in this part of the ship. "What are you doing down here?" she asked him and his smirk fell rather quickly off his face.

"Food," he told her quickly and rather unconvincingly. She wanted to know if he had been looking for her, but she chose not to venture that topic out lout. Instead, she raised her eyebrows, silently asking him the unspoken question. It did the trick. "Fine," he huffed. "If you must know, I was curious to where you've been staying."

His statement and concern for her sleeping arrangements amused her.

"Oh. So now you're a gentleman?"

"How many times do I have to tell you? I'm always a gentleman." Killian ran his hand threw his hair, suddenly and uncharacteristically nervous. "If you ever grow tired of the cargo hold, my cabin is for yours to share… _not like that,"_ he hushed the last part at her. Then with a seemingly change of mind, he told her quite suggestively, "That is, unless you _want-"_

"Thank you," she cut him off, not letting him finish the end of that sentence. It was a rather tempting offer, she had to admit, but then she remembered her nightmares and thought better of it. He didn't need to know that about her. "I'm good where I am…thank you though."

She could have sworn she saw his shoulders deflate just a tad. "Of course, Swan. Can't let my guest of honor freeze to death, now can I. Are you hungry?"

Emma nodded, doing everything in her power to ignore the somersaults her stomach was doing right now.

"You look awful," he told her later.

They were above deck now, eating fruit under the glowing sun. It was going to be one of those warm, perfectly beautiful days. If he hadn't brought it up, she may have ignored the subject of Regina entirely. His statement was enough for her to remember exactly why she looked so awful in the first place. She didn't have a mirror, but she could imagine the nest of hair and the dark circles under her eyes. Gods, she must have looked like a walking disaster.

"Well…gee. Thanks."

"Worried is all, love."

She feigned surprised. "You? Worried about me?" she said this mockingly, which earned her a glare. She smiled at her triumph.

"Your friends will be okay, lass."

She chose to go along with it, letting him think this was why she hadn't slept. She was concerned about their safety, yes, but she also knew Robin and Roland had no problem taking care of themselves either. They were thieves at heart, after all.

"You said you and Regina didn't end on the best state of terms," she asked as casually as she could.

She watched him tense. "Unfortunately."

"Is she actually as evil as everyone says?"

If Killian thought her question strange, he didn't show it. His answer, however, surprised her.

"Do you think _I'm_ as evil as everyone says?"

"No," she told him, not looking at him as she said it. "But that's…" she trailed off, unsure what to say.

_Different? I have experience with Regina? Hey, I'm the Savior that's suppose to save the Kingdom. I've been having dreams of Regina killing people that may actually be more than just dreams._

"Regina hired me to kill her mother," Killian told her. "That was…Gods. That must have been decades ago."

"What?" she honestly couldn't tell if he was teasing her or not.

"Regina promised to take me to a place without magic where I could finally obtain my revenge on Rumpelstiltskin."

Emma nearly fell over. The Dark Curse—the one Regina had failed to enact the day she was born. She subconsciously rubbed the scar on her wrist, suddenly very far away. "It was twenty-eight years ago," she practically whispered. Then she glanced up at him. "You knew about the Dark Curse. Were you…working with her?"

Killian shrugged. "She wanted to take everybody to a far off land, one without magic, which meant Rumpelstiltskin would be stripped of all his. At the time, I could only think about killing the crocodile. I cared about little else."

Emma thought about the dreams she had as a little girl, the ones in which her parents had abandoned her on the side of the road, the ones in which her brother had never been born. She felt the pinch in her chest, wondering if things would have been better if Regina had in enacted the curse. At least that way, her family would have lived.

"Why her mother though?"

"Cora was the only person Regina did not want following her to this new world of hers. She never told me what Cora had done to her. Considering she had no problem bringing Rumpelstiltskin over there, I can't possibly imagine."

Emma felt herself shudder, finding it hard to believe that there were far eviler people out there than Rumpelstiltskin and Regina.

"Why'd you betray her then?"

Hook let out a bitter laugh. She couldn't help but notice the way he brought his hand up to his chest, as if to make sure his heart was still beating inside it.

"Cora made the better offer." Hook paused, his gaze focused far out to sea. "Regina lied to me. That new land she planned to take us to…we wouldn't remember who we were. All of our memories would have been stripped."

"Which meant you wouldn't have been able to kill Rumpelstiltskin because you wouldn't remember what he did to you."

"When the curse failed, Cora disappeared and I don't know where she went, nor do I particularly care. I found myself back in Neverland, doing everything in my power to cheat death for a few more years and figure out a bloody way to kill the crocodile."

The hat the old man had asked her to steal popped into her mind. She had almost forgotten about it. She thought about his note and she wondered if it did have the power to absorb the magic of even the most powerful of sorcerers like the man had said. She bit her lip, debating about telling him. She ultimately decided to save that for a rainy day.

"Did you find it?" she asked him instead.

His eyes flickered to hers for the briefest of moments. "There's a dagger that controls the Dark One."

So Hook was on a suicide mission. She narrowed her eyes at him. "You're just going to get yourself killed." He just blinked at her. "You can't be serious. Are you crazy?"

"My turn is over," he told her rather tightly and she knew it was pointless to argue. "Now I believe it's your turn."

Emma balked at him and his irritating ability in changing the subject so effortlessly. "What…that's not how it—"

"And why not, love? I told you a secret—"

"You wanting to kill Rumpelstiltskin is _not_ a secret."

"—Let's start with…I don't know. How about how you got the scar?"

Emma's hand unintentionally shot to her wrist. She thought about it for an awfully long time before she finally let out a deep breath. She seriously wanted to know how he had the uncanny ability to see right through her.

"I…I don't remember." It wasn't entirely a lie. "It happened when I was a baby." She paused, just enough to look him in the eye and she knew she had to give him something better than that. "I got it when my parents were killed."

Half-true. Her father said he died that day, which is why her mother and him shared a heart.

He nodded. "I'm sorry, lass."

"It was a fire and I was too young to remember it really," she half-lied, surprising even herself and she felt a weight lift off her shoulders. Suddenly, it felt like she could breathe again. "But you already knew that I was an orphan."

"Open book, love."

"Now your turn," she said before he could question her further on that. "How about… who gave you that ring?" Then before he could tip-toe around her question, she added, "The one I took from you."

Killian's eyebrows shot up, but didn't argue with her. Instead, he held up said ring, which dangled around his neck, close to his heart. "The ring you stole belonged to my brother." He glanced out to the horizon. "He died in Neverland. The very poison we were sent to acquire for our precious king ended up killing him." Killian paused. "Liam…he had a good heart. The king, well, the king did not."

"So you became a pirate."

Killian shrugged. "I suppose."

"Or perhaps this life chose you," Emma threw back the cliché at him and she found herself smiling in spite of herself.

Killian broke out into something of a grin as well. "I think Doyle is right. You'd make one hell of a pirate."

"Why Captain, are you asking me to join your crew?" she teased him.

Hook's smile faded and hers along with it. "Regina's knights…they weren't looking for me. Were they?" It wasn't exactly a question and he threw it at her so suddenly, that it took her a moment to ensure she had heard him correctly. "You're not running from any someone. You're running from the Evil Queen."

Her heart stopped beating for one terrible second. Killian caught her wrist with his hook, as if he predicted she'd run, despite the fact that she had nowhere to go.

"I—"

"Do not fret, love. You don't have to tell me why and frankly, I don't care what you did to get on her bad graces. Your secret is safe with me."

-x-

Killian made his way to the helm to relieve Smee of his position. They were making good time and the skies were just right. Everything was perfect—too perfect. He kept glancing up at the skies, almost half expecting them to turn black and open up at any minute. However, with each passing day, the sun continued to come out and he wondered how much longer their luck could last…hopefully _at least_ three more days, which should put them at the next down if they stayed on this course.

Three more days until they could restock. Three more days of convincing Emma Swan to stay with them. Three more days of making sure she actually wanted to stay with them.

His eyes flickered over to her. She was sitting up near the front of the ship with Oliver, who seemed to be teaching her how to tie different knots. As if she had the uncanny ability to know when he was staring at her, she looked up, catching him in the act. He quickly glanced away.

Nearly a week ago, he had ventured down below deck to find out exactly where Emma Swan spent her nights. He heard from August that she slept in the cargo hold and it bothered him a lot more than it probably should have. He didn't entirely believe it, so he went looking himself. Emma Swan with her blonde her and strikingly green eyes and clever wits had planted a seed somewhere in his heart. He could feel it starting to take root there.

He was a gentleman, after all, and the thought of her sleeping anywhere but a bed kept him up at night…or so he told himself. When he had found her, he hadn't expected his simple offer to lead to something deeper, something he had honestly never intended.

He found himself telling her things he had never told anyone before, not even his most loyal of crew. He told her about Liam. He told her about Rumpelstiltskin and even let it slip that when he did kill him, he had no plans of actually living to tell the tale. But then she surprised him when she shared a piece of the puzzle with him as well. She told him about her parents' deaths and her time spent in the orphanage. He learned how the other kids were cruel to her and how the caretaker treated her more like a slave than a child. But he knew better than anyone how she felt, for his own father sold him and his brother into servitude after all. Her eyes widen when he told her this. Perhaps they did have more in common than he ever could have possibly imagined.

From there, things sorta led to another, and over the next several days, he found himself giving her more and more of his heart to her. They did this every morning at sunrise, when the rest of the world was still asleep.

He enjoyed their morning talks. It helped him sleep at night and hopefully her as well. He wasn't ignorant, knowing that there was more to the dark circles under her eyes than the friends she'd left behind in Nottingham.

Of course, they didn't discuss entirely depressing matters.

He learned that her favorite color was blue, like the ocean and that she loved hot chocolate with cinnamon. He also learned about her nifty super power in detecting when someone was lying to her. He barked out a laugh at that, thinking of all the money she'd managed to take from them in poker. He told her about the stars and the stories that made up the sky. He told her about Neverland and the Lost Boys. He even told her about Milah.

_Milah._

His heart pinched thinking about her because ever since Neverland, his quest for revenge seemed to have faded. He felt his thirst for revenge slipping away from him more and more with each passing day. He couldn't deny it. Emma Swan was filling the void in his heart he hadn't suspected could be filled again. While he didn't want to admit it, he couldn't deny it either.

Emma Swan terrified him.

She brought up feelings he hadn't felt in an incredibly long time. If you would have asked him a month ago, he would have said he would never be capable of letting go of Milah. But then Emma Swan waltzed into his life and he thought maybe, just maybe, he could find someone else, that maybe his heart was cable of finding love again.

On their fourth morning together, he had asked what she missed and her answer surprised him.

Reading.

So he stood up abruptly and told her to follow him to his cabin. She rolled his eyes at her when she teased him, something about getting her into his chambers again. He kindly pointed out that the last time she stepped foot there, she'd been much too preoccupied to notice much else. That earned him a blush and he felt his heart somersault in his chest at the pink seeping into her cheeks.

Gods, she was bloody beautiful.

"You can borrow them," he told her, hoping he didn't sound too desperate.

He watched her trace the spine of each book before tossing him a sheepish smile.

"Thank you, Killian."

_Killian._

Like she knew him.

_Killian_

Like they were friends.

_Killian._

Like she cared.

The more time he spent with her, the more he felt as if he was ripping himself into pieces. He couldn't deny it anymore. With every smile, every laugh, every quirk remark…he found himself falling. And damn, had he fallen hard. He hadn't known at first, not truly, until one day it hit him with the force of a category five hurricane. He couldn't exactly recall at what point things had changed for him, only that things had and it bloody well terrified him.

He knew, or least suspected that she felt it too. He also knew that the moment they docked to restock, Emma Swan would disappear from his life as quickly as she fell into it and Gods above, he vowed to not let that happen.

-x-

Emma felt as if the whole world was on fire. It burned bright and white on the ocean surface. It did not terrify her in the slightest, not like how her dreams did, where the flames grew red and high. The flames before her now were different. They were white and beautiful and they brought a solitude and a peace she didn't know existed.

A moment later, her eyes adjusted and she realized it wasn't fire she was seeing at all, but the moon reflecting off the ocean's surface.

Emma snorted at herself. How silly. The ocean couldn't catch on fire! Though, this very well could have been the rum talking.

She still held the source of her inebriation by its neck and she took another swing of it because she deserved it (not that she needed it). She'd long since passed the point of no return and she'd most likely regret the amount of alcohol she consumed in the morning. However, at that given moment, she didn't particularly have a care in the world.

She blamed August for this one. He had somehow convinced her into playing another hand of poker. Somehow the poker game ended up turning into a drinking game. Not that it mattered, as she ended up taking his money anyhow. The game ended when August could barely keep his head up, so she helped carry him to bed. He was out before his head even hit the pillow.

Unlike August, she had not been tired in the slightest, so she made her way above deck to gaze upon the stars. Emma blinked, wondering where Hook had gone off to, completely forgetting that it was well into night—or rather early in the morning depending how you looked at it. So without a second thought, she stumbled her way to his cabin, pleased to find that he hadn't locked the door after all. She threw open the door and rather fell down the ladder with a thud.

Impressively, she had not managed to spill a drop of her liquor. Perhaps she'd make a hell of a pirate after all.

"Swan?"

Emma stopped mid laugh and glanced up at him. Killian had his jacket off, his shirt untucked, and his pants were unbuttoned. She blushed, realizing that if she had waited any longer, she may have seen him in his birthday suit. He looked more relaxed than she had ever seen him before. She rather enjoyed him like this. He somehow seemed softer without his coat and his face of defiance.

"What are you doing?" she asked him as casually as she could, doing her best to ignore how quickly her throat went dry.

"What are _you_ doing?"

She walked, or rather stumbled over to his desk and leaned heavily against it. He closed the remaining distance between them and snatched the bottle of rum from her hand. "Are you drunk?" he sounded as if he was trying to scowled her and trying not to laugh at the same time.

She did her best to scowled him for yelling at her, but she broke out into a grin all the same. Perhaps she could bring back flirty Emma. She liked flirty Emma. Flirty Emma wasn't afraid of things.

"What's wrong Captain? Can't handle your rum?"

His eyebrows shot up as he examined the bottle. "Please tell me you did not drink all of this by yourself."

She rolled her eyes and attempted to snatch it back, but he held it away from her and she stumbled slightly to reach for it.

"August and Doyle helped," she told him lamely.

"August…you've been spending a lot of time with him."

Emma shrugged, oblivious to his envy. "He's nice," she told him. "He's like a brother."

"Brother, right."

She quickly gave up on snatching back her rum. Instead, she began to play with his many necklaces. She found the ring that belonged to his brother and began to fiddle with it. She heard his intake of breath when her fingers accidentally brushed the hairs on his chest.

Killian let out a bitter laugh. He trembled beneath her fingers. "If Liam could only see me now."

"He'd be proud," she told him confidently.

A beat of silence passed between them, before he nearly whispered, "Emma…why'd you come here?"

She opened her eyes and caught a flash of blue. When had she closed them? Perhaps she had too much to drink after all. Killian was standing rather close to her now, not that it mattered to her drunken state of mind. He smelt marvelously of rum and the sea. It weakened her knees and for a moment, she thought about kissing him. That was why she came here in the first place, wasn't it? His question would have had her sober-self running for the hills. However, drunk Emma had taken full reign now and there was no turning back from this.

She could (and would) blame it on the rum in the morning. She was blissfully aware and unaware. Gods above she wanted to kiss him and she wanted him to kiss her back. She wanted to finish what they had started the day she first met him. A onetime thing to kill the flame, to kill the desire. A onetime thing to make all these godforsaken feelings go away. However, even drunk, she knew it would and could never be a onetime thing. At least, not with him.

They were so close now, that if she tilted her head up an inch, hers lips would have touched his. She could feel his breath on her cheek, hot and husky, as the storm raged within him. Then with a heavy sigh, he took a step back from her. She felt the emptiness between them immediately, as if someone had doused her with a cold bucket of ice.

For a moment, the room spun around them. She was definitely going to regret this tomorrow—if she even remembered it that was. Killian caught her against his chest with a content sigh. When she looked up at him, she saw a curious expression tugging at the corners of his lips. It wasn't that sinful one he usually teased her with. This smile was soft and barely there, as if he was mentally very far away.

Her head fell heavily onto his shoulder and she would have stayed there forever if he would have let her. She felt her feet leave the ground then and the room swayed around her. For a second, she thought she'd be ill, but then she felt the softness of mattress beneath her and a pillow beneath her head.

"Sleep well, love."

The moment she felt the darkness begin to creep in, she shot up with such alarming speed that she nearly took out both their heads.

"Easy there," Killian told her softly, gently pushing her back down by the shoulders.

She tried to throw off the covers but it proved rather difficult in her drunken state. She couldn't sleep here. Not when she woke up screaming each night. She couldn't let him see that.

"Swan!" Killian's voice stilled her. "It's alright. You can sleep here tonight. I'll go…elsewhere."

She caught his wrist and he paused. Swallowing hard. "No…I'm…I'm not tired," she lied, failing miserably. Realizing that he probably took her panic wrong, she explained, "It's not you I'm worried about."

_Don't get attached._

Killian sighed. "You're not the only one with nightmares, love."

Emma bit her lip, finding the edges of the blanket much more interesting. She laid back down on the bed, too exhausted to hold herself up any longer. "I feel like I'm being cut into so many pieces I'm afraid one day I won't figure out how to put myself back together anymore."

"Emma…" he began, but she cut him off.

"It's alright."

He pushed back the hair on her face and he let his hand linger on her cheek. She leaned into it and glanced tiredly up at him.

"What are you thinking, love?" he asked her, continuing to trace gentle circles on her cheek.

His voice was like music, soft and comforting and a part of her wished that she could live in this blissful state forever.

"I'm thinking that I can't take the chance that I'm wrong about you."

He let out a shaky breath. "Ah. The pirate thing?" he asked, forcing humor into his voice.

"No. Not that. It's more a _me_ thing," she told him. "People who get close to me get hurt."

"And what could possibly make you think that."

"It's true," was all she said.

"I never thought I'd be capable of letting go of my first love, my Milah…to believe that I could find someone else, that is, until I met you."

It was alarmingly honest and she watched the fear wash over him as he waited for a reaction from her. Her heart began to beat rapidly inside her chest. Gods above she wanted to return his feelings so desperately that she felt that her heart might break in two. He must have taken her silence as a rejection because he made a move to leave. However, she caught his wrist. He turned back to her and she could see the war raging behind those blue eyes of his.

"Don't go," she said this so softly she wasn't entirely sure he heard her.

But then he laid next to her. The bed was so small, their shoulders touched. She would definitely blame this on the rum tomorrow and that was fine because right now, she needed him. His presence was soft and comforting and she couldn't remember the last time she didn't actually fear falling asleep.

She let him stay with her that night because for once, Emma didn't want to be alone. For just once, she wanted to know that there was someone else beside her in this dark, cruel world. Just as she felt herself slip away into the slumbers of sleep, she felt him kiss her so gently on the forehead that she wondered if she had dreamt it.


	7. Chapter 7

 

The nightmares came again, just as she suspected they would. It didn’t start terrible. In fact, when she first ‘woke,’ she didn’t even realize she hadn’t actually waked at all.

Emma blinked, only to find herself staring up at an unfamiliar ceiling and laying on a cold, stone floor. She sat up and glanced around, confused. She still wore the same clothes she had on the night before, which weren’t quite cutting it under the frigid temperatures. Emma pushed herself to her feet and ventured down the long hallway, thinking nothing of it.

She passed by a window and found a quaint town covered in a blanket of snow. It surely explained the temperature. Emma smiled. It looked incredibly peaceful and she would have stayed there forever if she could have. But she had the strangest feeling she wasn’t where she was supposed to be, so she reluctantly continued on her way, only to tumble right into someone.   

“Oh! I’m sorry—Dad?” the word was out before she could even process what she had said.

Her father looked older than the last time she’d seen him. His blonde hair had specks of white tossed in it now and the lines around his eyes stood out perhaps a little more than when she was eight years old, but for the most part, he was still the same man she had known twenty years ago.

That was when she knew. This was a dream and nothing more.

Her joy didn’t last and it took all her effort to remain exactly where she was. She almost preferred the nightmares…this…well this was just a cruel reminder of everything she had a lost, a reminder of what could have been. Emma blinked back the tears.

_This was a dream. He wasn’t real._

“I’m sorry…do I know you?” Her father titled his head to the side, seemingly curious about the blonde woman standing in front of him. Unable to find the right words, Emma quickly shook her head. “Oh…sorry. You just remind me of someone.” Then her father smiled brightly at her. “Of my son actually.”

_Leo._

Emma returned his smile. “You have a son?” she asked him quietly.

She would have stayed in this dream world forever if she could have. Life had the profound ability to pass you by while you clung to a wish that could never be.

“Yes. He’s turning twenty-three today.”

Her heart clenched in her chest. Unlike her parents, she didn’t have a face to put to her brother. The last time she had seen him, he was only three. She wondered if he would have  grown up looking more like their mother or father, or perhaps more like her—a combination of both. Not that it mattered because this was a dream and nothing more. This was a wish.

In reality, her family was dead, she was an orphan, and that was the cruelest part of it all…that her deepest wish could never be fulfilled.

“You must be really proud,” she settled with eventually.

“I am…please forgive me. I haven’t even asked you your name. Are you a friend of Elsa’s?”

Emma chose to go along with it and she gave him a slight nod. “My name is Emma.”

“Emma...” her father whispered, getting this faraway look in his eye. Then his eyes narrowed slightly. “Emma?” he asked her again, though this time with a hint of wonder in his voice. Before she could comment on it, the dream collapsed in on itself and her father became nothing more than a memory. 

She vaguely remembered waking up, whimpering softly when she felt arms circle around her waist. Only when she heard the hush of _his_ voice did she realize that the arms belonged to Killian. She attempted to pull away, but his embrace and caring words were too much, and she found herself falling right back into a deep sleep.

This time, her dreams weren’t nearly so pleasant.

When she woke again, she found herself back in the room of her castle with Pinocchio shaking her eight-year-old-self awake. She’d dreamt of this night many times, only this time, she was seeing it from a different point of view. Typically, when she dreamt of this night, it rather felt like a dream, hazy and slightly difficult to remember. Tonight though, if felt as if she were watching a play unfold out around her. Tonight, everything felt very real.

_Emma. We have to go. Someone is storming the castle._

Emma watched herself reel back from his touch. It had been twenty years but she could still remember how the fear caught in her throat, how the smoke made it difficult to breathe. She could still remember how she accepted the lie Pinocchio had fed her, about her parents waiting for her by the docks, even when she knew that he hadn’t told her the truth at all.

_Quickly, Emma. They’re coming for you_

She watched the boy drag the child version of herself through a hidden door while her older self was left standing alone in her old bedroom. The smoke crept under the door, turning her walls the color of charcoal. She could feel the heat of the flames too. Just as she was about to pinch herself awake, the door burst open and her father broke through the door.

It was the things you couldn’t see coming that were strong enough to kill you.

Emma choked out a sob. _Her father had come for her and she had left him there to die._

Emma raced for him, but her father went right through her. Emma collapsed heavily into the wall behind her, struggling to keep her heart anchored inside her chest.

_Emma!_ her father screamed.

A moment later, a woman who she had only seen in picture books and dreams, walked into her room. The woman had on an elaborate black dress, which just so happened to be the same color of her eyes. She wore her hair in an equally elaborate knot on top of her head. Her lips, red as blood, tugged upwards and Emma knew immediately who the woman was.

_You’re too late,_ her father whispered, a smile on his lips.

_Is that so?_ The Evil Queen’s lips turned upwards into a twisted grin as a fireball formed in the palm of her hand. For one heart stopping moment, Emma realized that Regina intended to end her father’s life. She forgot that she was dreaming. She forgot that her father was already dead. Her magic sparked in the palm of her hands.

_No!_ Someone screamed.

Correction. She screamed.

The fireball went out with a hiss and just as Regina’s head snapped in her direction, Emma released the magic from the palm of her hands. It shot out, hot and bright, and she could have sworn she heard Regina’s screams when she—

Emma awoke with a gasp.

She shot straight up, hands anchored over her chest. Her heart beat rapidly beneath the palm of her hand, the scar on her wrist seemingly on fire. Her magic roared in her ears and it sparked from her fingertips. The candles in Killian’s cabin ignited with a hiss. One nearly burned so bright that she feared she’d set the whole ship on fire.

It took her several moments to calm her racing heart and eventually she did manage to bring the flames back to a mere shimmer. Emma fell backwards onto the mattress, hands in her hair, as she tried to process what had been real and what had been a dream.

_Her father had come back for her._

Bile rose in her throat. It should have been her.

Regina had looked straight at her, not through her, but _at_ her with her heartless eyes. Emma thought back to her other dreams, the ones in which she felt as if she was seeing out of the eyes of someone else. Emma quickly shook that thought from her mind. It wasn’t possible. They were just dreams, nothing more, though they were dreams that definitely set the course for the day, and between that and the damn rotten hangover coursing through her, Emma didn’t think the day could get much worse.

Boy, was she wrong.

She didn’t know how long she had slept for or when exactly Killian had started his day, only knowing that when she did make her way above deck, the sun was already high in the sky. She found him and the others above deck. When he asked her how she was feeling, she nearly took off his head. She watched him take a step back, eyes narrowing slightly in concern at her outburst.

Her nightmares weren’t his fault after all, but he just happened to be there and his blue eyes of pity were enough to make her stomach twist.

“Are you okay, love?”

_Don’t get attached._

“I’m fine.” She hadn’t meant it to come out so harsh. Last night had been a mistake. It wasn’t his fault, after all, and yet, why was she taking it out on him?

But Killian hadn’t heard her or ignored her entirely. “You are welcome to use my chambers to sleep—“

“ _I’m fine_ ,” she snapped at him. “And don’t call me love,” she added because she knew it would hurt him.

It did it the trick.

It was remarkable, really, how quickly Killian could morph into Captain Hook. She watched his walls go up and a dark expression cast over his face. A part of her screamed at her stupidity, screamed that she was shutting out the only person who had ever actually understood her. A part of her wanted him to push back, to see that her outburst had nothing to do with him, but the storm brewing beneath the surface because she was _terrified._

He didn’t push though. Instead, he took a small step away from her.

“As you wish, _Swan,”_ he told her coldly.

Emma felt the tears prickle at her eyes, but damn it, Emma Swan did not cry. She waltzed her way to the other end of the ship, only to snap at poor Oliver, who really hadn’t meant to startle her the way he had. She watched him run off over to Killian, who told him something she couldn’t make out.

Not that she cared.

Her mood seemed to spread like an infection to the rest of the crew. None of them stopped by to talk to her like they typically did. Rather they stayed several yards away from her, as if she were a ticking time bomb and perhaps she was. For the majority of the day, they left her alone with her thoughts, which truly wasn’t the healthiest of coping options either.

Her mind kept drifting back to her dreams. The first one had been pleasant enough, a taste of what could have been. The second one had been much worst because she had left her father to die.

_If she would have just waited._

Then Regina _looked_ at her as if she were more than smoke, as if it was more than just a dream. Again, she felt the familiar prickle at her fingertips. She clenched her fist shut, willing her magic to settle down. It did the trick. Barely.

A clang of metal against metal startled her from her thoughts. Across the ship, she saw that August Oliver had taken up a playful game of swords. She felt the twang in heart again, remembering a time long ago when she use to play with swords.

A circle had formed around the two, so she walked over to join them. When the others saw her, they all casted her skeptical glances. She chose to ignore that and focus on the fight.

August was holding back as far as she could tell, though Oliver wasn’t terrible either, especially considering he was only a child. He brought his sword down to the right, stopping at Oliver’s side. If this hadn’t been a game, August’s sword would have gone right through the boy.

“Dead,” August said with a laugh.

Oliver broke out into a smile and then shook his hand for good sportsmanship. Lester took a turn next, who nearly managed to disarm him, however, August held his ground. With a final swing, August managed to knock the sword from the pirate’s hand. The sword skidded across the deck before landing directly at her feet. She immediately felt each member of the crew staring her down, waiting to see what she would do. Eventually, she reached down, picked it up and gave it a practice swing.

“Ever sword fight before?”

Emma shrugged. “Here and there,” she fibbed.

She hadn’t forgotten the lessons she had learned as a child. When Robin and Roland had taken her in all those years ago, they’d been more than eager to help perfect those skills. However, it was tempting to let August believe otherwise, so when August nodded, she let the sword slip from her grasp and fall to the floorboards. The other pirates snickered around her and she hid her smirk by ducking down and picking it back up.  

She gave it another practice swing, gathering the weight of it in her hand. It was a little heavier than she was used to, but it would do just fine. She had watched August fight several rounds by now and had already found his weak spot. He was slow on the uptake and typically swung to disarm too early.

“Go ahead, lass,” a voice whispered from behind her.

Killian.

She hadn’t heard him come up from behind her. He was close, she could feel the warmth radiating off him. He had been a scapegoat earlier. He owed her nothing and yet, there he was, encouraging to be the best she could be. She nodded, afraid her voice would betray her if she tried to speak.

She mirrored August’s stance and tried her best to ignore the fact that Killian was watching her every move. Unsurprisingly, August attacked her first.  She blocked it with ease and probably to him, with a surprising amount of strength. She saw the flash of something behind his eyes then—surprise, awe, annoyance—before he smiled. He came at her again, this time harder and with more strength. She blocked each blow, stumbling at first. It’d been awhile since she last held a sword, but it came back to her naturally. She found herself blocking each one of his blows with more and more confidence, until finally, she managed to knock the sword from August’s hand.

“I was going easy on you,” he told her with a forced smile, and she could tell she had embarrassed him in front of the crew.

Lie.

She smirked. She couldn’t deny that it felt good to put a pirate in his place.

He picked up the sword again and he came at her fast and more determined now. Emma nearly stumbled backwards, but she held her ground. Swords clashed together, forming the shape of an ‘X.’ The pirates had stopped their snickering by now and had grown suspiciously quiet. She could practically feel the tension around them, as it all slowly began to dawn on them that this was perhaps more than a friendly sprawl. Though, what they were fighting for exactly, she couldn’t be sure.

She could feel Killian’s eyes on hers and when she glanced up, it didn’t surprise her to find him still watching her intently. He flashed her that smug yet encouraging smirk of his and she felt the heat rush to her cheeks.

August took advantage of her distraction and before she could process anything, he knocked the sword from her hand. Emma glanced at her sword, now on the ground, incredibly annoyed.

“First lesson. Keep your mind focused on the fight,” he told her mockingly and she fought the urge to smack him.

They went at this for a while, each disarming the other until they were left panting and out of breath. On their fifth round, August annoyingly managed to disarm her again. Three to two now. Unable to step away from him when losing, she went for her sword again, which had skidded across the deck—right by Killian.

Killian caught her arm when she went to pick it up. “Emma,” he said sternly. “That’s enough.”

Of all the things to set her off, it had to be him—Killian—and he wasn’t even the one she’d been fighting. But there was something about the way he said her name, raw on his lips and full of concern that made her snap. She shrugged him off her, picked up her sword and turned back to August. She did everything in her power to ignore the look of hurt that flashed across Hook’s eyes.

“Again,” she said, very much out of breath.

Before Hook could stop them, she launched herself at August once more. He blocked it, barely. She knew exactly where all her pent up energy had come from, and Gods above, did it feel marvelous to let it go. She’d feel terrible about taking it out on August later, but for now, she needed to get that rage out. For her parents. Her brother. Ingrid. For the Evil Queen who took everything from her. For Hook who had gotten under her skin.

She hated them.

All of them.

She thought of her dreams and how they were definitely more than just dreams. She thought about Rumpelstiltskin and his prophecy. She thought about the responsibility of a job she didn’t want, had never wanted. She could feel her magic tingling at her fingertips, waiting to release itself. She clutched at the sword a little tighter, doing everything in her power to anchor it back. The last thing she needed was to show Hook’s crew a little magic display. They’d probably ransom her off to the Evil Queen first chance they got.  

Emma went in with a final blow, missing August’s sword and cutting his arm in the process. The move startled him, as it should have, and he stumbled. Then with one final push, she shoved him to the ground. Emma smiled in triumph, batting the hair from her eyes, which had fallen loose from her ponytail.

“I let you win,” August told her stubbornly.

Lie.

The situation seemed all too familiar and for a moment, her mind flashed to a different image—one from twenty years ago of a boy and girl sword fighting in a castle’s courtyard.

August, still lying on his back, shrugged. “Perhaps.” Then ever so quickly, he snapped his leg out and knocked her feet out from under her, leaving Emma wondering how she ended up on top of him. She landed with an ‘umph’, her sword falling from her grasp. August used his strength to his advantage and rolled them over to pin her to the ground.

Emma didn’t think.

On instinct, her magic jolted to life and before she could stop it, it snapped from her fingers. It didn’t exactly throw him through the air, but it shocked him just enough to make him roll off her. She heard him curse and then he gasped. She glanced around, worried that the others had seen her little magic trick, but many of them had already left. Hook was still watching her intently with a look she really couldn’t place. She pulled her gaze away from him and back to August, an apology on her lips when she saw the unmistakable look of recognition in his eyes.

“Emma?” he asked skeptically, reaching out to touch her.

He knew her name, of course he did. However, the _way_ he said it had her senses jumping into overdrive. She fell backwards, crawling away from him as if he had burned her.

_No no no no no._

Her friend was dead. Pinocchio was dead. She had left him just like her parents and brother. The black knight had killed him. But looking at him now there was no denying it and she wondered how she hadn’t known it the moment she laid eyes on him. He looked older, more mature and little rougher around the edges. However, he still had the curl in his hair and that glint of curiosity in his eyes. It’d been twenty years but she could see it now, plain as day.

“Oh my god,” he gasped because he knew it was her and she couldn’t deny it. “You’re _alive?”_

Before he could catch her arm, she did the only thing she knew how to.

She ran.

-x-

“Emma, Love. Open the door,” came Killian’s concerned voice.

She had locked herself in Killian’s cabin, having nowhere else to go and knowing it was the only place with a lock to it. For what felt like several hours now, she sat huddled in the corner, doing everything in her power to calm her emotions. Her magic kicked into overdrive. Unable to control it, the candles kept lighting and going out with a hiss.

At that moment, all she felt was pain and she fought back the tears, but they came freely now, leaving her eyes red and raw. That pain shot through her with every shaky breath, every inch she moved. She gasped out, struggling to breathe, as her panic swept through her. Her magic spitted and zapped from her hands, magic she couldn’t control, magic she didn’t want, never wanted.

“ _What the bloody hell did you do?”_ she heard Killian snap to someone, most likely to August, from the other side of the door.

She hardly heard them, though. Her breathing came in short, sharp gasps as she struggled to regain control of her breathing. She was still processing, still attempting to pull her emotions back and regain control. She had no idea how much time had passed before she finally calmed down. It could have been hours or mere minutes until she finally accepted the fact that Pinocchio—August—was alive, that he knew her secret and that they were in the middle of the damn ocean. For one startling moment, Emma feared that perhaps August had known all along and that they were actually taking her to the Evil Queen right now.

Emma gripped at her hair, her knuckles turning white.

No.

She had seen the way August looked at her. He hadn’t truly known until only a moment ago who she was.  She was sure of it. She closed her eyes and did everything in her power to rid herself of the image.

August…he had looked at her with such awe and inspiration and _hope—_

The door slammed open then with a loud bang, startling Emma from her thoughts. Killian was at her side in an instant, hand gliding over her face and down her arms and then back up to her cheek again. She held still, realizing that he thought August had harmed her during their sword fight. He cradled her face with his good hand and his thumb traced a gentle circle there. She knew her eyes were red and raw from crying and that her hair was a mess from running her hands through it. Thankfully, he chose not to comment on it.

“Emma,” came August’s strained voice from somewhere behind Hook.

Emma couldn’t look at him. She felt the familiar need to run, but Killian stood in front of her and August blocked the doorway, her only way out. And if she did get out, what then? They were in the middle of the godforsaken ocean. She couldn’t row her way to Arendelle. There was nowhere to go.

_“Get out,”_ Killian snapped.

She hadn’t expected to hear such hostility in his voice. At first she thought, he was talking to her, but when she looked up, she found him face to face with August.

August hesitated, surprised by Killian’s outburst as well. “Just let me—“

“I SAID GET OUT,” _Captain Hook_ roared.  

August stumbled backwards, but not before flashing Emma a look, his emotion ringing raw and true. The door slammed shut again and Emma felt a weight lift off her shoulders. She sagged backwards into the wall behind her, though before she hit it, Killian was right by her side again, closing the distance between them. He stood so close to her that their foreheads nearly touched. His concern for her was too much.

_Don’t get attached._

“Emma what happened?”

_Emma,_ he said.

Safe inside his mouth.

_Emma._

Like he cared.

Emma fisted at his leather jacket. She didn’t know what to tell him. The moment she told him the truth, the moment she would no longer be Emma Swan but the presumed dead Princess Emma of Misthaven. Telling him the truth would mean she’d have to face a reality she never wanted. She couldn’t comprehend that. She wasn’t a Princess any more than she was anybody’s damn Savior.  

Thankfully, Killian spoke for her. “August…he said you knew each other when you were young. At the orphanage. Is that true?”

Emma let out a sigh of relief and gave the smallest of nods. August hadn’t betrayed her trust after all. At least, not yet anyway.

“I thought he had died,” she whispered, barely brining the words to life.

At least, she could give him somewhat of the truth.

“Let me in, love.”

Emma shook her head. It was too much. _He_ was too much. If she spoke now, she knew she’d fall apart at the seams and tell him everything. She couldn’t bear it. She wasn’t sure if her heart was capable of breaking along the same fault lines more than once.

“Emma, there are better ways to cope than letting anger overcome you,” Killian told her.

If he noticed the candles, all now lit, he didn’t comment on it. Instead, he directed her towards the bed. She sat down and immediately pulled her knees up to her chest. She knew she had to give him something, anything because Killian wasn’t stupid. If she went without saying anything for too long, he would connect the dots eventually.

“We grew up together,” she began so quietly she wondered if he could even hear her. “I…he knew my parents and I knew his.”

“Emma...you don’t have to—“

But she couldn’t stop now. She had to give him something. She had to give _herself_ something. “It’s a bit like when you hear about a ship wreck,” she said, continuing as though she hadn’t heard him. “It’s awful but it doesn’t haunt your life either. I was on that shipwreck when it went down and August…well, he just heard about it at a local pub.”

She didn’t know how else to explain it and honestly didn’t even know if it made sense. To his credit, he didn’t say anything further and neither did she

-x-

Killian stayed with her awhile before he reluctantly went to check the others above deck. She couldn’t recall exactly when she fell asleep, only that when she opened her eyes she was no longer in Killian’s ship but another, unfamiliar one. 

“Why hello? Who might you be?” A boy no more than eight was staring at her with striking eyes and head full of blonde hair, sitting crossed legged from her. He reminded her an awful lot of Oliver.

“My name is Emma,” she muttered, inspecting her surroundings.

It was dark and cold and the wind howled around them. The familiar sway of a ship sailing through the ocean was unmistakable though. She recognized the space they sat in as the cargo hold. It creaked and turned around them and they weren’t the only ones onboard. Directly to the right of them, a couple slept soundly.

_Her parents_

Emma’s head whipped back to the boy and her heart pinched inside her chest. Her brother was nearly a spitting image of her father, though he seemed to have inherited their mother’s eyes. _Would have,_ Emma corrected because this was a dream and nothing more. A taste of what could have been. 

“My name is Leo,” the boy told her proudly.

Emma winced. _Leo._ She reached out a hand and cupped his cheek.

“Are you a ghost?” he asked her again. He leaned into her hand and placed his own hand over it. His fingers were cold and clammy, but she could feel his touch all the same.

Emma smile. “Perhaps.”

He looked at her skeptically. “You’re an awfully friendly ghost.” Leo glanced around them and brought what she recognized as a stuffed bear— _her Bear—_ to his chest. He caught her staring at it, so he pulled it in closer to him as if to protect it.

“I use to have a stuffed bear like that when I was your age.”

Leo bit his lip. “It belonged to my sister. I’m keeping him safe for her for when she returns.”

Emma’s smile faltered. “That’s really nice of you.”

“What are you guys doing down here?”

Leo bit his lip, clearly conflicted in whether or not he wanted to tell her. “We are moving to a new town. We have to leave.”

“Why is that?”

The question seemed to upset the child. Almost all at once, the dream changed shape around them, only this time when she woke, she was back in her bedroom, only it looked very different than she had ever seen it before. There was a basinet in the center and in the corner, sat a strange looking wardrobe. It looked as if its carpenter had carved it out of a tree. She ran a hand over it and felt it hum beneath her palm.

_Magic!_

Emma’s hand snapped back. Was this the magical wardrobe her parents had planned on sending her through?

The door burst open then to reveal her father. He was out breath and had a wound on his shoulder, but for the most part, he appeared unharmed. He looked younger than she had ever seen him before. Then she heard the crying and her eyes snapped to the small bundle of joy he held in his arms.

He spotted the wardrobe and dropped his sword. He didn’t even spare her a glance, which hurt a lot more than it should because this was a Goddamn dream and of course, he couldn’t see her. Emma didn’t even realize she was crying as she watched her father place the baby into the wardrobe.

_“I love you,”_ her father whispered.  

He placed a kiss on her forehead and just as he was about to shut the wardrobe door, her father let out a heart shattering scream. He fell onto his back, withering in pain. The baby echoed his screams. Emma fell down beside him, doing everything in her power to stop his pain, but this was a dream and she could only watch helplessly from the sidelines. 

Emma was beginning to realize that hell was truly the inability to take action when your loved ones were in pain.

A cackle behind her broke her attention and her head snapped up. Regina stood behind them now with her hand held out as if she were gripping an invisible object.

“You lost, Regina. The curse failed,” her father challenged her, despite the pain.

“We will see about that,” Regina told him with a wicked grin.

It happened so fast that Emma didn’t even have time to process it. Regina plunged her hand into her father’s chest and then without even hesitating, Regina turned her father’s heart into a pile of dust. As Emma watched the life fade out of her father’s eyes, she poured every ounce of her being into a scream. Emma crawled over to him and gave him a slightly disbelieving shake.

_This wasn’t happening. This wasn’t happening._

Her parents had told her that her father had died the night her mother gave birth to her but nothing could have prepared her for actually seeing it firsthand. She felt the roar of magic beneath her skin and feel it building deep within the pit of her stomach, waiting for its release.  When Emma looked up again, she realized that Regina had already turned her attention to the screaming baby in the wardrobe.

Correction.

Her.

The screaming baby was her, and Regina had every intention of killing her.

Emma shook her head and closed her eyes. _This was a dream and nothing more. She would wake up. She would wake up._ But she didn’t and when she opened her eyes again, she was surprised to find an emotion she never would have expected to see in Regina’s usually hopeless eyes.

_Sorrow._

But as quickly as it came, it went. Regina’s grief turned almost immediately into hatred and Emma knew exactly what the woman planned on doing. Even though it was a dream, she couldn’t let that happen, and Emma’s hatred for the woman spoke true. At the thought, both her hands ignited with a warm, white glow, with so much power, Emma feared she wouldn’t be able to contain it.  But she couldn’t think about that now. Just as Regina pulled back her hand, intending to kill, Emma thrusted all of her magic out from her.

It exploded across the room with white light, so blinding and so loud, that it took her several moments to realize that when she finally came to it, she was no longer asleep.

_“Emma!”_

Emma shot up. Screaming for her father, as well as the pain in her chest and the scar on her wrist.

 “Emma! It’s me, love. Just breathe.”

Recognizing the voice, Emma stopped struggling. When she finally came to, she found Hook sitting next to her. She opened her mouth, wanting to say something—anything—when she let out a broken sob instead. She wasn’t sure who was more surprised at the sound she’d just made—her or Hook.

Emma Swan didn’t cry.

Not since Ingrid anyway.

Killian was looking at her now with those pitying, incredibly sad blue eyes of his again. Her first reaction was to push him away, just like she did to everyone. _Don’t get attached_ because it would only lead to more heartbreak and betrayal and she didn’t think her heart was capable of withstanding another blow. But she could feel the warmth radiating off his body and his hand on her shoulder made her feel incredibly safe, something she hadn’t had the pleasure of knowing for an incredibly long time.

Hook must have sensed her inner turmoil because the next thing she knew was that he was pulling her into a warm embrace. She let him, collapsing into him. The room lost its shape around her. The sobs erupted out of her, deep and frantic, as if someone had pulled the ocean floor from its depths and up through her mouth. Her body shook violently as the realization of what happened came fully together in front of her.

As it turned out, hell was coming in during the second act. It was coming in after all the damage had been done. It was the feeling of hopelessness, knowing there was nothing you could do to stop the pain.

“Shhh. You’re okay. I’ve got you. I’ve got you,” Killian whispered, as he pulled her fully into his lap. “I’ve got you.”

And she clung to him because for once, just once, she needed to believe in something solid beneath her feet. She needed to believe that not everyone she cared for would leave her. Under the silver beams of moonlight, Emma dared to let herself believe that everything was going to be okay.


End file.
